


Anakin Skywalker and the Stray Droid

by protos_metazu_ison (larkspyt)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, obikin through the eyes of a droid, that escalated quickly didn't it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkspyt/pseuds/protos_metazu_ison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin adopts a stray droid, much to Obi-Wan’s displeasure, which is fine because Rusty doesn’t like Obi-Wan all that much either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [madamepalimpsest](madamepalimpsest.tumblr.com) for her forbearance in beta-ing this for me.

Sunlight might not reach the lower sectors of Coruscant, but rainwater sure did. It arrived dull grey and grimy from dirt accumulated from the upper sectors and ran rivulets down Rusty’s exterior. It slid between the crevices of his chassis and into his circuitry where water had no business being. Another hour of rain and Rusty was sure he was going to short out.

He had tried forcing his way back into the cantina, but Memah had triple-deadlocked the front and back doors. She was too used to his tricks. So Rusty resigned himself to ignominious death beside the dumpsters. 

Then, he saw Anakin Skywalker. 

He let out a chirrup of recognition. - _Anakin!_ -

Anakin stopped and peered into the alley, frowning. “Rusty? Is that you?” Rusty replied with an affirmative beep and rolled towards him. 

Anakin Skywalker was one of Rusty’s favourite customers at the Soft Heart Cantina. He was nice to all the server droids and would give Rusty some repairs behind Memah’s back. It was the only reason Rusty lasted this long. 

Anakin knelt down so he was radar eye-level with Rusty and said, “Have you seen a Rodian in a green tunic run past here? He has something I need.”

Just as Rusty was about to tell him no, a figure in a dark green tunic fell upon Anakin with two other assailants. Rusty rushed forward, prodding one assailant in the shin with an electric shock. The assailant yelped and kicked Rusty so hard, he fell sideways. He couldn’t right himself, not without the side propulsion boosters a previous owner had taken out from him. 

From his vantage point though, Anakin didn’t need any help. He downed one attacker with a kick to the stomach and another with a choke hold. He wrestled the Rodian in the green tunic onto the filthy ground, yelling something about a datacard. That’s when Rusty saw a fourth attacker ready to surprise Anakin from behind. 

Rusty screeched a warning. 

Without releasing a hold on his target, Anakin kicked the fourth attacker’s feet out from under him and activated his lightsaber, keeping the edge of the hot blade an exhale from the attacker’s neck. 

“Thanks for the help, Rusty,” said Anakin after the police had rounded up the assailants. “What are you doing out here? Did you make Memah angry again?”

Actually, Memah had won the Coruscant Spin. With her prize money, she had not only bought herself a vacation, but also a number of service droids from the new WA-7 line. She’d sold off all the old cantina service droids, except for Rusty. It wasn’t that she couldn’t get a good asking price. She couldn’t even give him away. It was obvious from his outer appearance that Rusty had seen more wear and tear than most droids. He’d also been retrofitted so many times no one could tell his original make. Nobody wanted a droid like that, not even for free. 

“So she left you out here by the dumpster?” said Anakin, outraged. “I’m going to have a word with her the next time I see her. Some people have no respect for droids.” His rant was cut short by the beeping of his comlink. Anakin hesitated before picking it up. 

The voice that came through the comlink was pregnant with worry. “ _Anakin, are you alright?_ ”

“The target has been apprehended. I have the datacard. I’ll drop it off at the Archive for de-encryption as soon as possible,” said Anakin, tone suddenly clipped.

There was a whoosh of a sigh from the other end of the transmission. “ _Why didn’t you contact me sooner? I was worried something had happened to you._ ”

Anakin’s grip on the comlink trembled. “I’m alright, Obi-Wan. Don’t worry,” he said and ended the call abruptly. After a moment, Anakin placed a hand on Rusty’s domed head. “How about you come with me? I’ll get you cleaned up, make sure your circuitry’s alright. At the very least, my room is dry.”

Rusty let out a series of excited beeps and bumped gently against Anakin’s leg in thanks. 

X

Anakin lived all the way up at the Jedi Temple at the upper strata of the city, where the sky was visible. Rusty was registering the sunset, something he had not seen in a while, but was drawn away by the whispers and stares of the other beings in the Temple. Anakin himself was ignoring them, taking long strides with his gaze straight ahead, as if Jedi Knights brought home dirty, stray droids every other day, which Rusty was sure they did not. On the way to the Jedi Archives, the knights training in the dojo paused in their sparring. Several heads poked out of the snack centre, bewildered. 

Rusty couldn’t help but pick up the chatter. 

“Skywalker is at it again.”

“Don’t think he can go one day without breaking the rules.”

“The Council is too lenient with him.”

“You mean Master Kenobi is.”

Even the aloof Jedi chief librarian, Jocasta Nu, looked askance at Rusty as Anakin handed over the datacard. However, Anakin appeared unmoved by all the attention, so much so that Rusty suspected he was used to it. Anakin stayed only long enough for Jocasta Nu to thank him for his services before ushering Rusty into a turbolift, leading down to the Knights’s Billet. 

Anakin’s living quarters was not so much neat as it was bare. There was a cot and a desk and little else. On the desk was a holographic photo of the former queen of Naboo, which Anakin quickly deactivated and slipped into his utility pouch with a soft curse. From the same pouch, he retrieved a screwdriver with which he took to a seam of a wall until it swung back and revealed a stash of electronic and mechanical components. He picked out a rag from the top of the pile and began wiping Rusty down. 

“Are you still holding any water? Now is the time to let it out,” said Anakin. Rusty opened all his compartments. Rainwater poured out into a sizeable puddle in the middle of the room, prompting a cry of dismay from Anakin. “Alright, I stand corrected. I should have let you in the ‘fresher before you wet yourself.”

Fortunately for Rusty, most of his circuit boards were intact and would remain functioning as long as he was properly dried out. Unfortunately for him, the moment Anakin had a chance to look at him properly, he wasn’t content until he could list all of Rusty’s components. “Oh come on, Rusty, I promise I’ll put you back together,” Anakin promised. But Rusty wasn’t having it. He’s had enough of people taking away and adding parts to him for one droid lifetime. 

“Fine,” said Anakin with a huff. “Would you let me fix a few things then? At least let me change out your hologram projector bulb. It’s busted. I won’t even pry as to why you have a hologram projector bulb in the first place.” Anakin raised both hands to show he meant no harm. 

Rusty beeped indignantly. - _I was manufactured with that bulb. It was part of my original design._ -

Anakin glanced down at the translation of droidspeak on his datapad. “Really? What was your original design then? What sort of droid were you?”

- _I don’t remember,_ \- Rusty chirped a little too quickly. As much as he liked Anakin, he didn’t trust him. Rusty’s first owner had enemies. Those enemies had blasted him clean off her ship. Fortunately, a scavenger ship had found him, put him together and sold him off in a different system. But he still remembered her. The scavengers never wiped his memory chip. In fact, no one has ever and Rusty would like to keep it that way, thank you very much. 

“Alright, alright, keep your secrets. Come here,” said Anakin, waving his rag. “I promise I won’t ask.” Rusty tried to keep his contented beeps to a minimum as Anakin cleaned him more thoroughly than any maintenance facility had. “Your photoreceptor is coming loose. I think I have a spare brace around here somewhere.” He went back to his stash in the wall and began searching through the pile. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Rusty asked why Anakin had hidden all those things in his wall. 

Anakin stiffened. “Jedi aren’t supposed to have material possessions. They’re a luxury. Like emotional attachments.” 

That meant Anakin couldn’t be Rusty’s new owner, even if he wanted to. Rusty tried not to be disappointed. 

Rusty jolted in surprise when Anakin suddenly slammed the wall compartment shut. Barely a second later, the door of the room slid open to reveal Anakin’s Master, Obi-Wan. Rusty usually saw him at the cantina with Anakin. He was a boring man who always ordered the same food. He was also dismissive of droids, like most other non-droid sentients. Needless to say, Rusty didn’t like him much. His dislike was justified when Obi-Wan took one look at him in Anakin’s room and groaned, “Anakin, what is this?”

“It’s Rusty, from the Soft Heart Cantina. I’m just cleaning him up. Memah went on holiday and left him behind,” said Anakin, keeping his back to Obi-Wan. 

“Well, your new friend has tracked mud into the Temple,” Obi-Wan pointed out. 

“The droids will clean that up. That’s what they’re there for.”

“That’s not the point. You have to be more considerate of the others.”

“Did you come here just to scold me?” Anakin wanted to know. 

Rusty saw Obi-Wan bristle, and then sigh. “No, Anakin, of course not. Forgive me. Good job on retrieving the datacard. You’ve had the highest success in missions out of any new Knight the Order has seen in the past decade. It is commendable.” It was an olive branch, but still Anakin would not look at Obi-Wan. Rusty was confused. Even when they had been bickering at the cantina, Anakin had been kinder to Obi-Wan than this. Obi-Wan continued, “However, I’m afraid you do not have much time for rest. We have been assigned a new mission. The details should have been transmitted to your datapad.”

“The Council paired us together again? They are aware I’m no longer your Padawan, aren’t they?” said Anakin. 

Hurt flashed across Obi-Wan’s features; only for a second. “I understand your desire for independence, but you will have to put up with me for this mission. We’re due to leave from the Galactic City spaceport in three hours.”

At the sound of the door closing, Anakin hurled the rag in his hand across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp splat and slid miserably down to the floor. Rusty ventured a concerned beep, but Anakin was covering his face with his hands, muttering, “That’s not what I want.”

X

Having served nearly five years at the Soft Heart Cantina, Rusty has broken up his fair share of fights. Usually a zap from his electric prod was more than enough to encourage acquiescence, but right now, Rusty didn’t know who he should be zapping. Both Anakin and Obi-Wan were arguing heatedly and based on Rusty’s information, they would see his prod coming long before he could get within firing range. 

The Galactic City spaceport was crowded with sleek new speeders and top-of-the-line spacers as the wealthy, famous, and powerful passed their luggage to Class 5 droids and trickled up the ramp into the Queen Loma luxury starliner. Rusty has never seen such a behemoth of a passenger liner. Its height and bulk cast such a significant shadow onto the spaceport, some of the smaller crafts passing by on the nearby traffic lanes had to switch on their headlights. According the chatter, this was the maiden voyage of Galaxy Tours’s largest premier passenger liner to date, making its first berth at Coruscant with plans to travel along the Leisure Corridor until its final stop at Ebiwaan. 

The possibility of enjoying the aforementioned liner appeared to be lost on Obi-Wan and Anakin, however, as they climbed up the ramp into the service entrance, still squabbling.

“You are not bringing your new pet on this mission,” said Obi-Wan vehemently. 

“It’s a ridiculous mission to be sending two Jedi Knights on. Where is the harm in me bringing Rusty along so I can fix him up?” said Anakin. 

“Fix him? I thought you said you were just cleaning him.” Obi-Wan yelped when Rusty ran over his left foot. 

- _Sorry, I slipped_ ,- said Rusty with a low whine, ignoring the dirty look Obi-Wan shot at him. 

The mission, from what Rusty had gathered from their conversation before the arguing began, was to guard the Queen Loma from the pirate activity which has been growing in frequency along the Leisure Corridor. Obi-Wan had maintained that it was the duty of the Jedi to uphold peace, and by extension of that, fend off pirate attacks on passenger ships. Meanwhile, Anakin had argued that the Jedi would not have been summoned at all were it not for the fact that many members of the Senate owned shares in Galaxy Tours. “Have we suddenly become glorified bodyguards? This is a job for the PSF, or the police. The Separatists are gaining more support by the day. We should be battling them, not protecting rich tourists.”

“We don’t choose, Anakin,” said Obi-Wan. 

“Maybe we should!”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Regardless of your opinions on the mission, you need to take it seriously.”

“I’ll be as serious as you want,” said Anakin, assisting Rusty up the ramp because the grooves on his wheels had mostly weathered away, “but you can’t stop me from bringing something to do on the side.” Rusty felt rather like a child caught in the middle of a divorce and almost wished Anakin had left him to the peace by the cantina dumpster. Almost.

Obi-Wan fell silent. Rusty looked over, following Obi-Wan’s line of sight to the queue of opulent vehicles, which have just pulled up in front of the departure bay by the Queen Loma. There was nothing odd there. Just more of the rich and powerful stepping aboard the starliner. But Obi-Wan was frowning hard. “This wasn’t what I was told.” He stopped a passing crew member and demanded to see the captain. 

“The captain is busy with preparations for departure,” said the crew member. “Who are you?”

“We are the Jedi appointed by the Supreme Chancellor to oversee the safety of this vessel,” said Obi-Wan. 

The crew member gave them an incredulous look. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? We’re here to guard this liner,” said Anakin irritably.

But the crew member was still giving them strange looks. “Please follow me to the captain’s cabin.”

“I thought you said the captain is busy with preparations,” said Anakin. 

“Yes. You can wait in her cabin until she returns.”

“You will fetch her now,” insisted Obi-Wan. 

The crew member nodded. “As soon as preparations for departure are completed.”

Anakin’s fingers twitched, but Obi-Wan stepped between him and the crew member with a placating smile. “Thank you,” he said. 

As soon as the crew member left them alone in the captain’s cabin, Anakin exploded. “They don’t even know we’re here. I’ll say it again: this is a farce of a mission.” 

Obi-Wan did not comment, choosing instead to stare out the window of the cabin down at the bustling spaceport where the last of the passengers were boarding. So far, nothing about this mission had been reassuring. Everything from the crew member’s reaction to their presence to the cabin steward’s confusion when Obi-Wan had asked about their accommodations. 

The situation did not improve with the arrival of the captain. Her gaze, when it landed on Rusty and the pair of Jedi in her cabin, was unimpressed. “I am Captain Faravi,” she said, extending a four-fingered hand towards Obi-Wan. She was a Murachaun with a long snout and blue scales set off by a deep purple suit with epaulets. “I’m afraid-” There was a loud hiss, followed by a deep groan as the Queen Loma disengaged from the gravity locks of the spaceport and began its first voyage. Irritation crossed Faravi’s reptilian features. “I’m afraid I was not made aware of your assignment aboard this starliner until a few minutes ago. I wish I could tell you it is unnecessary and that you should get off my ship, but as you can see, it is now too late.”

Rusty saw Anakin’s eyes narrowing with displeasure and backed away from him. Obi-Wan, polite as ever, merely blinked and said, “Excuse me?”

“Galaxy Tours is well aware of the pirate attacks,” said Faravi, “and as such we have engaged the services of a well-known private security company. They have sent me their best guards, all with experience in the armed forces in different star systems. So you see, I don’t need you.” 

Even though Anakin had been saying the same thing only an hour ago, he was now trembling with rage at Faravi’s audacity. But before he could say anything, Obi-Wan stepped forward with his arms crossed. “How many senators are there on board this vessel?”

“What?” said Faravi. 

“How many senators? According to the passenger manifest I was given, the most important guest you should be hosting is a minor Corellian ambassador. Yet, I counted at least 25 members of the Senate boarding the Queen Loma. So, how many senators?”

“274.”

Even Anakin snapped to attention at that. “What?”

Faravi levelled a cool gaze at Anakin. “274 senatorial members, along with 519 more important guests, friends and family of senators. I make it a point to know whose safety I am in charge of. I take my duties seriously. Can you say the same for yourself, Master Jedi, when you have so obviously been referring to the wrong passenger manifest?”

Ignoring the taunt, Obi-Wan held out his hand expectantly. Faravi sighed and gave him a broad datapad containing the correct manifest. He skimmed it and passed it to Anakin, who cursed softly under his breath. “Did the Senate just decide to take a holiday together? This is ridiculous.”

“This is troubling,” said Obi-Wan, stroking his beard. “Captain Faravi, as much as our presence aboard your ship displeases you, I insist that you let us take precautions. Should this be a conspiracy drawn up by the pirates-”

Faravi barked out a laugh so violent the thin fins along the back of her head ruffled. “You think pirates have that much forethought? Tales of the Jedi’s intellect must have been exaggerated indeed. There is no conspiracy. You were simply working with the wrong manifest. The Jedi were careless.”

Anakin growled. “Listen, you.”

“If the Jedi were careless it is because someone has led us to be so. On purpose. For your sake, I hope it is not your employer,” said Obi-Wan, his tone gaining an edge of steel that had even Faravi straighten. “Now I have the authority to ground this vessel, but seeing as we have received no bigger threat than the pirates, I am not inclined to do so. But do not force my hand, captain. If you try to impede us, I will stop this voyage before it exits the sector. Are we understood?”

Rusty stared at Obi-Wan, trying to reconcile this individual with the boring customer who ordered nothing but roast shatual and steamed charbote roots at the cantina. Anakin nudged him in the side, surreptitiously passing him the passenger manifest. “Make a copy of this,” he said as Faravi grudgingly gave them rooms and made a ship-wide announcement to the crew and security staff to cooperate with the Jedi. 

“Will that be all, Master Kenobi?” Faravi sneered. 

Obi-Wan said, “I will also need to use your HoloNet transmitter.”

X

The Jedi Council were similarly perturbed by the misinformation. Their blue hologram figures shimmered in the private meeting room Obi-Wan had commandeered from Faravi as the Queen Loma slowly swerved to avoid a solar flare. 

“Supreme Chancellor Palpatine asked this favour of us at the very last minute. Could this not be chalked up to a slip-up?” said Depa Bilaba, but the consternation bowing her brow belied her own suspicions. 

“There might be a plot. There might not be,” said Mace Windu. To say more would be implicating the Supreme Chancellor in treasonous intent. “Keep a close eye on the captain, as well as the private security she’s hired. I do not want to think that they are in league with the pirates but we cannot rule out the possibility.”

Yoda said, “If a plot there is, better for you to stay with one another it would.” 

“They’ve given us rooms on separate decks though,” said Anakin. Because those were the only two rooms left. 

Anakin was assigned a standard room that was downright luxurious compared to the Knight’s Billet at the Temple if only because it had an en-suite refresher. But Obi-Wan’s was a deluxe stateroom on the upper Durasha deck with a bed that could fit five humans comfortably and a private entertainment area that housed an open view to the stars. Obi-Wan, used to an austere lifestyle, had balked at the sight of it and tried to switch rooms with Anakin, who wouldn’t have it because having Rusty on the Durasha deck with the other glittering passengers would draw too many curious stares. 

“Would it not be more convenient for you to share a room with Master Kenobi?” said Depa Bilaba. 

“Not unless you want to encourage more rumours about what the Jedi do behind closed doors. On Svivren, one of the queen’s handmaidens asked me if we used leashes,” said Anakin, shrugging as Obi-Wan was shocked into a coughing fit and Depa Bilaba looked on, amused. “Don’t worry, Master Yoda. We’ll be careful. As of right now, there is no apparent threat other than the pirates.”

“But we will keep our ears to the ground,” added Obi-Wan. 

Yoda gave a hum of consideration. Then, he raised a clawed finger and pointed over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Obi-Wan looked behind him and saw Rusty attached to a charging port, the light in his radar-eye tellingly dim. “Anakin’s side project. He thought this would be a boring mission so he brought along a hobby. Why? Is something the matter?” He worried whenever Yoda’s gaze went half-lidded like that. It meant he had seen something Obi-Wan did not catch and Obi-Wan never liked not knowing everything. 

At that moment, Rusty finished replenishing his power cell and took himself off sleep mode. He wound his charging cable back into his central compartment and chirruped. 

“Where find you this droid, Knight Skywalker?” said Yoda. 

Anakin blinked in surprise. “Rusty? He works at the Soft Heart Cantina in the lower sector. Or at least he used to before Memah threw him out. I found him by the dumpster.”

“When he was pursuing the Rodian for the datacard,” said Obi-Wan to dissuade any suspicion that Anakin spent his free time frivolously in the lower sectors of Coruscant. He did, but the Council did not need to be aware of that. 

“Has Master Nu finished decrypting it? Does it contain information on the Separatists as we suspected?”

“Patience, Skywalker,” said Mace Windu. He looked sharply at Obi-Wan, no doubt silently chastising him for not having disciplined Anakin enough as a Padawan. “That datacard is not the only thing on Master Nu’s plate. The EduCorps will let us know as soon as they find anything.”

“And then you will tell us,” said Obi-Wan. 

Mace Windu frowned. “Yes. Until then, may the Force be with you.” The other Jedi present echoed the sentiment and ended the transmission. 

“Master Windu thinks I’ve infected you with my bad manners,” said Anakin. 

“You sensed this?” said Obi-Wan. 

“I saw it on his face. He doesn’t like me, you know. He’s never approved of me.”

“Master Windu is an honourable Jedi. He wouldn’t-” Obi-Wan’s defence died at the way Anakin’s shoulders bunched up, as if readying himself for an attack. 

Rusty registered the exchange and stored it away in his memory banks. 

“Let’s go see our room, Rusty,” said Anakin, waving a small bulb from his pack. “I found something for you in my stash.” Rusty let out an excited trill and ran circles around Anakin, nearly skidding when his wheels did not offer him enough traction to make the turns. 

Obi-Wan raised a brow. “Why does a service droid have need of a holo-projector bulb?” Now that Yoda appeared suspicious of Rusty, Obi-Wan decided that he should be as well. “In fact, why does your service droid only speak in binary? I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s highly inconvenient.”

Rusty directed a long, low wheeze at Obi-Wan; the droid equivalent of blowing a raspberry. Were he more vindictive, he would shoot a spray of oil at him but out of gratitude to Anakin, Rusty decided against it. 

“Rusty isn’t a service droid. He was just retrofitted as one,” said Anakin, sliding his fingertips along the edges of a magnetising unit, which had been clumsily soldered near the rim of Rusty’s central chassis. As useful as that unit had been to carry trays and various utensils, it limited the range of mobility of Rusty’s radar eye. 

“Then what is he? What’s his designation number?” said Obi-Wan. 

“If we knew that, we wouldn’t be calling him Rusty.”

“Can’t you ask him?”

“He says he doesn’t remember. He probably had his memory wiped. And I can’t find out unless I take him apart. Which I won’t do, don’t worry. I’ll just fix him up and make sure he’s of use to someone,” said Anakin in a defensive tone. 

Obi-Wan’s face fell. “Anakin, I didn’t say anything.” When Anakin did not respond, he looked away. “I have requested the ship’s plans from Captain Faravi. You’re welcome to join me in touring the facilities and checking the staff.” He retreated, leaving the air decidedly heavy between them. 

Rusty beeped mournfully. - _You’re being unfairly mean to him. You weren’t like this before. What happened?_ -

After a moment, Anakin swallowed. “The High Council was right all along. I have too much fear.” 

Rusty whistled, confused. 

Anakin reached into his utility pouch and withdrew the small, round holoprojector he had pocketed from home. Rusty remembered it. It contained a photo of the former queen of Naboo, Padme Amidala. “I know what I have to do, but every time I think about doing it, I get so afraid I lash out at him.”

Rusty still didn’t understand. Out of all the owners he’s ever had, by far, humans were the most frustrating.

There was a dull thud as Anakin dropped the holoprojector and sank into a nearby chair with his head in his hands. It rolled away, coming to a stop when it hit a wall and fell onto its side. Rusty extended a grasper arm, pulled the holoprojector towards him and secreted it into one of his compartments. When Obi-Wan came back, Anakin jumped to his feet, erasing any traces of distress on his face, and forgot about the photo. 

X

By the following morning, Rusty had reevaluated his ungenerous opinion of Anakin because he had a complete set of new wheels. Anakin had convinced one of the ship’s engineers to part with a set that had been lying around. He had spent the entire night fixing it onto Rusty’s treads because he couldn’t sleep. 

Rusty had suggested he go to Obi-Wan’s much larger, much more comfortable bed, but Anakin had assured him that the bed was not the issue. It was the missing photo of his wife. 

“I could’ve sworn it was in my pouch. I’ve looked everywhere for it,” he’d said, tsking. “Our marriage is a secret, you see. If anyone finds out, I’ll be kicked out of the Order.”

Rusty had asked if Obi-Wan knew. 

“No,” Anakin had said, “I tried to tell him this past year, but every time I think about telling him, I just - don’t.” He’d then gone back to working on Rusty’s wheels and that had been the end of that conversation. 

Since he was now able to navigate corners, Rusty went with Anakin as he made rounds of the alarmingly large starliner. It spanned five decks, including sixteen dining rooms, three nightclubs, fifteen gymnasiums, two shopping arcades, a bazaar, and a daycare centre. And those were just the public areas. The engineering deck with its drive systems alone took an hour to patrol.

Stationed by the entrances of the large, open spaces were Faravi’s private security hires, looking menacing with a blaster at their hip. They followed Anakin’s coming and goings from the corners of their eyes, all too aware of his identity as a Jedi and unaware of how wary of him they should be. 

Rumours of the Jedi and their abilities abounded across the star systems. Few were ever confirmed. 

As such, some of the security staff reacted to Anakin with hostility; none more so than the tall Chagrian, who went by the name of Narka. He hissed at Anakin whenever they crossed paths, baring a black, forked tongue. 

“He did what?” said Obi-Wan when Anakin reported this to him. “How…uncivilised.”

“Maybe it’s just a Chagrian thing,” said Anakin. 

“Have you ever seen Knight Bayons doing it?” Obi-Wan retorted dryly. “Master Tiin would have cut out his tongue.”

Anakin’s lips twitched and for one quicksilver moment, he forgot to be sad, and on the edge of a guffaw, he exchanged looks with Obi-Wan. Then the moment passed and Anakin quickly dropped his head, taking Obi-Wan’s smile with him. 

After they both agreed on the possibility of the pirates having installed an inside man amongst Faravi’s private security, Obi-Wan ran a cursory cross-reference of the guards against the PSF’s criminal database. As it turned out, nearly half of the names were attached to criminal records in one system of another. 

Anakin had been right: this was a farce of a mission. Two Jedi were not enough to keep an eye on a hundred possible suspects, so Anakin smuggled Rusty into the line of service droids bustling about the starliner so he could run reconnaissance as well. Anakin’s instructions were to hone in on incriminating conversations or suspicious behaviour and record them. 

It had been funny on the first day of Rusty’s mission, if only because Obi-Wan nearly spat out his sip of water when he saw Rusty rolling down the grand ballroom, a tray of entrees magnetised to his head. Beyond that, the following three days were filled with inconsequential chatter; politics, gossip, the rising price of mirkanite, and the occasional complaint about the meandering course the Queen Loma was talking to avoid the solar flares. Every night, Rusty related anything he’d found remotely interesting but Anakin only sighed. 

There was a glimmer of interest when the starliner’s scanner array picked up a civilian ship stranded without power off the planet of Giju. Thinking that the ship had been victim to a pirate attack, the Queen Loma pulled it in, but according to the cabin steward, there was no one aboard and the escape pod had been ejected. Rusty also overheard Narka the Chagrian arguing with the cabin steward after having upset a guest, who insisted on having Narka arrested until the cabin steward calmed her down. As the cabin steward was from Umbara and was blessed with the persuasive powers of that people, it had been simple. Placating Narka had been less so as gratitude did not come easy to him. 

But beyond that, all was quiet. 

The mission was turning out every bit as boring as Anakin had initially feared. 

The tension between him and Obi-Wan did not improve either. 

Whatever weight that was pressing on their friendship continued to lie heavy as Anakin turned down any overtures Obi-Wan made to relieve it. He feigned illness when Obi-Wan asked him to the meditation chambers. When they happened to dine together, Anakin was so taciturn, Obi-Wan was reduced to silence. And whenever Anakin checked in with Obi-Wan between his patrols of the starliner, his manner of speaking was so perfunctory one would think they were strangers instead of men who had grown up together. 

Things came to a head after several days of this, when Obi-Wan sought Anakin out for a spar, only for Anakin to say, “We fight with each other so often, surely even you must be tired by now.”

“Are you that keen on separating from me?” said Obi-Wan, attempting lightheartedness with a smile. He wasn’t entirely successful. 

Being thigh-level, Rusty saw the knuckles of Anakin’s natural hand turn white. But Obi-Wan did not.  
 Frustrated, Obi-Wan said, “I’ve had enough of your moodiness. Tell me what’s bothering you. It’s obvious that something is.”

“You’re not my Master any more,” said Anakin, still unable to look at him. “You can’t order me.”

“ _Damn it_ , Anakin, I may not be your Master but I thought I was your friend.” Obi-Wan ran a hand down his face and he looked so weary even Rusty was sorry. “Never mind. If you find my company so disagreeable, I’ll leave you and your pet alone from now on.”

Anakin did not see Obi-Wan for the rest of the day. His former Master had made good on his promise. That night, in the privacy of his own room, Anakin’s right synth-fist made a dent in the wall. “I wish I could find a way of doing this without hurting him.”

Rusty didn’t know what Anakin was hoping to achieve but he pointed out that Anakin was already hurting Obi-Wan. 

“And what would you know of hurt?” said Anakin bitterly. 

When Rusty did not reply, Anakin moved to apologise, but Rusty whistled at him not to interrupt. When he finally found the photo he had been looking for in his memory banks, he projected it through his newly-installed bulb. Anakin stared, mystified, at the palm-sized holographic figure of a young Nautolan in a pilot uniform. 

- _Her name was Sef Tran_ ,- Rusty chirruped. - _She was a trainee starpilot. I was assigned to her. For three years, she was mine. And then she graduated from the academy and suddenly, I was too old, too unreliable, and she sold me to a junk dealer_.- The holographic photo of Sef Tran flickered as Rusty kept it.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said at length. “I didn’t know.”

Droids changed owners many times, but Rusty reckoned that no droid has had as many as him. Twelve owners was a lot for a droid his age. More than half of them had thrown him away. Which was why Rusty liked Anakin so much. Anakin was the first one who picked him up. 

“But what were you doing with a pilot? Were you an ASP? Were you a labour droid?” said Anakin.

Rusty whistled his surprise. Anakin was usually much sharper than this. - _Of course not. I was flying her starfighter_.-

X

On the fifth morning of the Queen Loma’s voyage, the leisurely atmosphere of asteroid-shooting on the upper observation deck was broken by a fight between Narka and another guard. Anakin, who had been in the middle of his rounds with Rusty, had tried to break it up, but the sight of him only riled Narka even further. In the end, the guests had called the cabin steward to diffuse the situation. This time, the cabin steward used all of his suggestive power to persuade Narka to walk himself down to the brig. 

Anakin watched the Chagrian’s back, fingers twitching at his side. He had not activated his lightsaber but it had been a near thing.

When he and Obi-Wan were summoned to the captain’s cabin, Faravi made sure to bring up the incident. “It was fortunate that Steward Al Mavra was at hand, but I was told that the Jedi had similar Mind abilities. Was I mistaken?” 

Anakin glowered but Obi-Wan was akin to the surface of a still lake. “Good morning to you as well, Captain,” he said. “Did you need us for something?”

“A transmission arrived for you from the Jedi Temple in Coruscant.” She activated the HoloNet transceiver on her desk. The figure of Jocasta Nu jumped out at them, seated at her carousel at the Jedi Archives. “I will leave you to it,” said Faravi, making for the door.

“Is that a Murachaun?” remarked Jocasta Nu, watching Faravi’s receding back with interest. “It’s so rare to see one so far from their home world. They’re usually so religiously-reserved.” She muttered to herself, a faraway look on her face.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and Anakin tapped his foot. 

“Master Nu?” Obi-Wan prompted.

“Ah yes,” said Jocasta Nu, smiling apologetically before tapping a few spots on the large screen before her. “I have called regarding the datacard procured by Knight Skywalker several days ago. I was told you wanted to keep informed about it.”

“Surely the EduCorps must have decrypted the thing by now,” said Anakin. 

Jocasta Nu arched a brow at him. “I beg your pardon, but we have completed decryption three days ago. I have been trying to contact you since then as per Master Windu’s request, but I could not get through until today.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan slid each other side-long frowns. Faravi had not mentioned this. 

“What information has it yielded?” asked Obi-Wan. 

“It’s a list,” said Jocasta Nu. “About a hundred or so letters, grouped in twos or threes, followed by the name of planets, some which reoccur.”

“Another cipher?”

“One we have not yet broken. What I do find curious are the planets listed next to the letters. Our sources tell us this list contains Separatist intelligence, but many of the home-worlds here are firm Loyalists. For example,” said Jocasta Nu, running a long finger down the screen, “here we have, resh, cresh, and then the planet Pantora.”

Rusty beeped. - _Match_.-

Anakin glanced at him quizzically. 

Jocasta Nu continued, “And over here: aurek, mern, Malastare.”

Rusty beeped again. 

“And here: osk, forn, Rodia.”

Beep. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, could you keep your pet down?”

Rusty whistled angrily at him. - _If you didn’t want this information, why did Anakin tell me to copy it?_ -

Anakin raised his head from his datapad, eyes round. “He’s checking it through the list.”

“What list?” said Obi-Wan. 

“The passenger manifest. The one Faravi gave to us. Master Nu, could you repeat those letters?” 

Jocasta Nu gave him an incredulous look but obliged him. “Resh, cresh, Pantora.”

Rusty beeped and this time, Anakin read the translation. “Match. Riyo Chuchi of Pantora.”

“Aurek, mern, Malastare.”

Beep. “Match,” Anakin read, “Aks Moe of the Congress of Malastare.”

“Osk, forn, Rodia.”

“Match. Onaconda Farr of Rodia. These are senators aboard the starliner.”

Obi-Wan gripped his chin. “Master Nu, please transmit the list over.”

Jocasta Nu nodded. “Is the transceiver secure?” 

“Anakin, check the transceiver. As soon as we get the list, get your pet to cross-reference every auresbesh grouping with the manifest. Let’s hope this is just a coincidence. Stay here. I will have to see Faravi about communications.” Obi-Wan marched out of the cabin, ignoring Anakin’s, “His name is Rusty.”

Anakin inspected Faravi’s transceiver for listening devices, fending off help from Jocasta Nu because he was pretty sure he knew his way around devices better than her. Once the list was transmitted, Anakin dithered about how to transfer it to Rusty until Rusty chirred at him, exasperated, and extended a thin arm into the computer terminal. At this, Anakin gave him a funny look; the same funny look after he had heard about Sef Tran.

It took the better part of an hour for Rusty to recite all the correlations between the two lists as Anakin jotted them down diligently. Jocasta Nu studied her list alongside him so she could make a report to the Council. They were interrupted twice; first by the cabin steward, who was looking for Faravi, and then shortly after by a security guard, looking for the cabin steward. 

At the end of the hour, Obi-Wan returned with a stormy expression. “What news?”

Anakin reported that 113 names appeared on both lists. Those who were not senators were close relations of one. “Half the Loyalist Committee is here,” said Anakin with a grave expression. 

“There are also two names not attested on your droid’s list,” said Jocasta Nu, pointing at her screen where she had been making little ticks next to the letters. “The first is peth, nern, aurek, Naboo-”

The room shuddered, the image of Jocasta Nu blinked and disappeared, and from the very bowels of the starliner came a groan like that of a dying bantha. Out the windows of Faravi’s cabin, the stars were still. The ominous silence, indicative of inactive drive systems, was broken by the sizzle of feedback over the starliner’s intercom, and then, where Jocasta Nu was a few moments ago now stood a green, holographic figure in a hood. 

“ _Swine of the Republic_ ,” said the hooded figure in a voice so masked its gender was indiscernible, “ _thank you for accepting my invitation to supper._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken many liberties with Nahsu Minor and Murachaun society. (i.e. I made it all up.)
> 
> Once again, my utmost gratitude to [madamepalimpsest](www.madamepalimpsest.tumblr.com) who has been absolutely patient with me when I worry about whether this story holds any water. Beta-readers like her are a godsend. 
> 
> And a great thank you to everyone who read this, left kudos or a comment. It never ceases to brighten my day.

“ _For years you have suckled at the teat of the Republic while your homeworld starved. On this how do you defend yourself, Senator Zinn? And you, Senator Burtoni? The time has now come for all of you to make a choice_.” The hooded figure’s message was transmitted throughout the entire starliner. 

Most passengers were rooted to the spot in incomprehension. The minute the names were mentioned, the senators in the crowd roused themselves to flee, especially those who were singled out by the message. Their entourage of bodyguard closed in around them like armour and shepherded them towards the exits. Taking note of their quick exodus, the germ of hysteria spread to the others and soon all passengers were clamouring out of the upper observation deck; their animal hindbrains telling them to seek safety in their own quarters. 

It was peaceful enough until one senator mistook a woman digging for her comlink in her purse for a potential Separatist reaching for her weapon. He let out a cry. One of his bodyguards grabbed the woman, wrenching her arm behind her back. She dropped her bag with a surprised, indignant yelp, which led her friends to scold the bodyguard. The other bodyguards, sensing aggression, helped matter by whipping out their blasters. 

And in the background, the message continued to play. “ _Join us now or see how quickly the Republic abandons its allies. It will not be long. Swine of the Republic, thank you for accepting my invitation to supper_.”

Obi-Wan, who had rushed out of the captain’s cabin with Anakin to determine the reach of the Separatist transmission, frowned thoughtfully. “It’s on a loop. We have to stop it before —”

An explosion ballooned under them in a shock of force and noise, tipping their world sideways and throwing everything and everyone against the wall. Anakin caught himself easily with the Force. Near him, a young girl lost her footing and screamed as she was caught in a free fall. Anakin swung both arms towards her, using all his concentration to stop her in midair. A water pitcher, which had previously been standing on a table of hors d’oeuvres, whooshed past striking her on the temple. She clenched her eyes shut against the impact, water and blood sliding down the side of her face. 

The starliner groaned loudly, protesting at being careened, and slowly levelled itself, dumping its cargo back onto the carpeted floor. 

Anakin set himself and the girl down and rushed to her side, holding up a torn piece of tablecloth to her head. He looked for her guardian but around him, chaos prevailed. Frightened passengers remained steadfastly belly-flat on the ground, hugging the legs of a table which had been bolted down to the floor. Some others were trying to recover their breath after having been pinned to the wall by falling furniture. The girl was not the only injured one. She began to cry. 

“What the _kark_ was that? Obi-Wan?” Anakin said when he received no reply. He called for Obi-Wan again and heard a faint response to his left. Obi-Wan was lying on his side, clutching his shoulder. “Master!” He left the girl and knelt before Obi-Wan. 

“Don’t fuss, the both of you,” said Obi-Wan. 

The Umbaran cabin steward, Al Mavra, was crouching next to Anakin, his hands hovering over Obi-Wan’s form as he thanked him profusely for saving him. “You are injured, Master Jedi. Let me help you.”

Obi-Wan waved Al Mavra aside and climbed to his feet, only wincing slightly when he rolled the tender shoulder. “Anakin, you go to the engineering deck. Find out what’s stopped the drive systems and where that explosion came from. I’ll trace the origins of the transmission.”

Anakin protested, “But—“

“I need to deal with this.” Obi-Wan gestured towards the shell-shocked passengers. The fall had shaken them so that their panic was glassy-eyed and plaintive. Al Mavra appeared to be in a similar state for he held onto Obi-Wan’s arm as if he were the comfortable table leg that would not give way. Frustration flickered through Obi-Wan’s face. “Go, Anakin.”

Unable to argue with the tone, Anakin acceded but not before taking the injured girl and placing her small hand in Obi-Wan’s. 

 

x

 

Heat blasted from the opening of the engineering deck like a furnace about to explode, wringing tears from Anakin’s eyes. He hid his face in the crook of his elbow and fumbled clumsily for the protective suits usually kept by the door. Visor and helmet in place, Anakin could now see what sort of hell had broken loose on deck: one of the ion engines was on fire. 

The engineers have cornered it with extinguishers but the flame continued to leap. If the fire jumped to any one of the other two ion engines, the starliner would be stuck in this pocket of space. If it ate deep enough into the current engine and reached the power cell at its core, the entire thing would combust and break the starliner in half. 

Grabbing an extinguisher himself, Anakin joined the fight. “Tass, what happened here?” he asked of the only engineer he knew on the deck, the one who had given him Rusty’s wheels. 

“We don’t know. No one saw it happen,” said Tass distractedly, cursing when his extinguisher ran out of halon. Anakin pushed his own can into Tass’s hands and went to find another one when a flitting movement to his right caught his attention. Wary, he sent out his feelers in the Force, looking for anything that didn’t belong. He was rewarded immediately by the quick shadow disappearing between the other ion engines, ducking into the deck below. 

Anakin drew out his lightsaber and chased it. Behind him, he heard Tass squawk. This was the hyperdrive deck. No weapons were allowed. But Anakin had been trained to be on guard whenever he felt this uneasiness in his gut. If Obi-Wan were here, he would say he had a ‘bad feeling about this’. There was something suspect about this situation and he wasn’t just talking about the attack droid that was climbing the hyperdrive frame like a spider. 

Anakin recognised its long, tentacular limbs. It was a new type of Separatist attack droid commissioned by the Banking Clans. The last time Anakin had encountered one. it had wrenched out the engine of a speeder bike from under him. Nasty things. 

Running towards it, Anakin gathered his focus in the Force to drag the droid towards him but the droid hooked one long arm around a support strut to anchor itself. Tiny blaster muzzles came out from their hiding places across the plane of its chassis and fired at Anakin. Anakin pressed forward, deflecting all blaster fire with his lightsaber with relative ease. As much of a practitioner of Djem So as he was, Obi-Wan had grilled into him solid Soresu defences. The droid became visibly more frantic as Anakin entered striking range of it, and so a breath before Anakin skewered it, the droid fired a shot at the hyperdrive. The droid fell limp to the ground but Anakin had little sympathy for it for it had made a large gaping hole in the hyperdrive. The inner wall of the hole showed such an ugly wound of charred circuitry. Anakin could not even fault Tass for his hysterics of clutching his face and sinking down into the nest he’s made with his tail. 

The engineers had successfully put out the fire on the ion engine but the Queen Loma wasn’t going anywhere fast with a damaged hyperdrive. 

“The motivator’s shot and with only two ion engines working, it’s going to take us weeks to arrive at Kiffex for new parts. We’re basically sitting ducks for the Separatists and pirates,” said Tass.

Anakin ran a cursory glance over the hyperdrive, cataloguing the damage and gripped Tass’s shoulder. “It’s worse than it looks. Get a transmission to Kiffex. Ask them to shuttle over the parts. In the meantime, I’m sending guards down here to make sure none of our other engines will be compromised.”

“What guards? You told me you were here with one other Jedi.”

“Faravi’s guards. What?” said Anakin when Tass averted his gaze, his tail swishing restlessly. “I know about their criminal records. I’ll send for the ones who don’t have one.”

“They’re all criminals. The ones who don’t have records are just clever enough not to get caught.” Tass’s tongue darted out to lick his reptilian snout nervously. “Listen, I’ve flown with Faravi and Al-Mavra plenty of times. We’ve had pirate threats before but this is the first time Faravi’s hired a private security crew and look how well that turned out.”

“I thought Galaxy Tours hired them.”

“Yes, but Faravi’s the one who recommended this crew. We all thought it was strange; hiring thugs to protect dignitaries. I mean, look at that incident with the Chagrian. We’ve never had to put one of our own in the brig. And now this: a broken hyperdrive!”

“It's not Faravi’s fault that the Separatists attacked us. It's them we have to watch out for now, not Faravi.”

Tass straightened himself, his head rising above Anakin’s. “If you knew the things I know about my captain, you would not be saying that.”

Anakin nodded slowly. “Fine. But I have another question. Everything here looks more or less intact. Where did that explosion earlier come from then?”

 

x

 

A muffled silence enveloped the captain’s cabin after Obi-Wan and Anakin had run out to deal with the new threat. Rusty could hear the scuffling feet, the beginning rumbles of a mass panic, but they were far away and felt somehow detached to where he was, cut off by that single door. Then the door slid open with a whoosh. Rusty couldn’t see who it was, his sight being wholly obscured by the tall captain’s desk. Before he could come round, there was another whoosh and he was alone again, except with a bomb fixed to the base of Faravi’s HoloNet transmitter. 

It was a small, round thing with a display embedded into its flat surface. The circular display blinked a slow red, which sped up the longer Rusty observed it. 

Rusty rolled back and forth with indecision. He had very little experience with bombs and so did not know how to disable it. When the red blinking quickened to the point of alarm, Rusty decided to heck with it and flushed it down Faravi’s private toilet. 

For one still moment, the cabin was awash with peace again and then a loud roar ripped through as the entire starliner bowed onto its side from the force of the explosion near its base. Rusty launched a grappling hook into Faravi’s desk to stop himself from falling. On the Holonet transmitter, the hologram of the hooded figure twitched and disappeared along with the ominous voice over the comm systems. In place of its silence, screams from outside Faravi’s cabin erupted in a dissonant chorus. 

The Queen Loma’s considerable weight meant that the vessel did not take long to right itself but beyond the cabin door, Rusty could hear people crying and felt bad in spite of himself. He wondered how much of his involvement in this he should tell Anakin. After a while, he cracked open the door sheepishly and jacked into the starliner’s surveillance system to find out where his friends were and saw Obi-Wan being rushed to the med-bay. Retracting his information jack slowly, Rusty decided that he would not tell Anakin anything.

 

x

 

Anakin spent the next hour scaling upwards from deck to deck, ensuring that everyone who needed help received them. Since the cleaning droids have been dispatched, the conditions of these decks were much better than engineering had looked, but it made for a dissonant backdrop as passengers staggered around looking lost as they searched for their friends, pale as they drank away their hopes for a peaceful holiday, and angry at having been frightened so. Some of the more indignant ones tried to press Anakin for answers when they saw him stalking by and Anakin knew this was the time to employ the famous Jedi forbearance, but he either cut them short or breezed past them. He was in a hurry. 

Although there had been no agreement, the arrangement for him and Obi-Wan to reconvene in the med-bay had been implicit when he had put that injured girl in Obi-Wan’s care and he was impatient to check in on both of them. He had not liked the way Obi-Wan had favoured his shoulder. 

After making sure he was no way else needed in urgency by the civilians, Anakin made to head down to the med-bay and waited before the turbolift doors for a few minutes before realising Tass had shut them all down. Clicking his tongue, Anakin ducked into the emergency stairwell and paused upon realising he was hearing voices. 

“The ship should be in pieces by now. I knew you could not be trusted with the bomb,” the voice hissed. “Do you know how close our shuttles were? How quickly we would have been found out?”

It was impossible to tell where the voice was coming from. Vents from all the decks fed into the stairwell and the narrow passage of transparisteel carried sounds far too well. 

“Do not speak that way with me. I will create another window of opportunity,” said another voice. “It is simple enough.”

“If it was so simple, you would have killed him already. That name on the list that you wouldn’t tell me. We are not so stupid. We might even do the job for you and get all the credit from Dooku.”

“I’ll have your tongue, you impudent reptile. Dooku might have seen fit to trust you but I know your kind.”

“Between the two of us, I’m the only one who has done his job properly so you’re the one who should be watching your tone,” said the first voice, relishing in winning this game of one-upmanship, but before the second voice could retort, it said, “Stop. Don’t bother saying anything more. I am needed elsewhere.” And it disappeared, leaving only Anakin to hear the string of curses the second voice had stored up. 

Only after he was certain both the voices were gone did Anakin released his breath and the quick rush of oxygen made the beating of his heart sound enormous in his ears as anger simmered low in his gut. The threat was not coming from outside the Queen Loma, after all. There were Separatists hiding among them. 

 

x

 

As Rusty approached the med-bay, the door slid open and a woman wearing the golden dress of a Thousand Moons matron rushed out, nearly colliding into him in her haste. She apologised through the veil covering her mouth and disappeared round the corner, leaving Rusty bewildered and shaking his head. _Some humans_ , he thought. 

He found Obi-Wan alone on a sickbed in half-lidded consciousness, having been granted a room separate from all the wounded guests. He had been stripped of his outer tunic. Without it, he looked smaller, more vulnerable. 

- _Are you okay?_ \- Rusty beeped. 

Obi-Wan lifted his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the side of his lips when he saw Rusty. “Anakin will be happy to see you still in one piece.”

Their one-way conversation was interrupted by Steward Al Mavra, ushering in a medic-droid, which scanned Obi-Wan and proclaimed that he was suffering from nothing more serious than bruised ribs and an achy shoulder. The Umbaran cabin steward clasped one of Obi-Wan’s hands in both of his. “That’s twice now that you have saved me, Master Jedi. Please allow me to ease some of your pain.” He took the small cup of red pills from the medic-droid and put it in Obi-Wan’s palm. 

“Really, there is no need,” said Obi-Wan. 

“It’s the least I can do,” said Al Mavra, the silver around his eyes shimmering, and proceeded to play the doting nurse, fluffing pillows, straightening blankets. 

Biting back a sigh, Obi-Wan took the medication. 

Rusty kept a wary eye on Al Mavra until he left. He had nothing against Umbarans, but Al Mavra appeared to be a trusted subordinate of Captain Faravi, who was a Murachaun. Ever since Sef Tran, Rusty had not liked Murachauns. They were so strict and forbidding in their manner. And the way they had executed his poor Sef Tran…Rusty had not been able to revisit that memory even though he had kept it away in his memory banks. 

There was nothing to do when Obi-Wan fell asleep so Rusty pulled out the photo he had nicked from Anakin. The figure of Padmé Naberrie Amidala leapt out on the small holo-projection platform. All his memories of Padmé were outdated from when she was a little girl with white face paint and ceremonial robes. Anakin’s Padmé was taller. She wore a loose dress and her hair was bundled up in the traditional tiered buns of a Nabooean maiden. She looked softer. Happier. This depiction of Padmé did not move like in his videos but it would have to do. It has been so very long and even though he had not much interaction with her, he knew she was kind and that she had appreciated his service. He wondered if she remembered him. 

He startled at the sound of approaching footsteps and took down the photo seconds before Anakin burst in, sagging in relief when he saw Obi-Wan relatively unharmed. “I thought that cabin steward was lying. How on earth did you get injured by a chandelier of all things?” 

- _He’s sleeping. He can’t hear you,_ \- chirped Rusty. 

“Rusty,” said Anakin with happy surprise, “are you looking after Obi-Wan?” 

Rusty beeped at him the equivalent of a noncommittal shrug because, in truth, his primary reason for guarding Obi-Wan’s bed was to wait for Anakin. Anakin was difficult to track down because he was always on the move but Rusty knew that wherever Obi-Wan was, there Anakin would eventually be. 

Anakin chuckled. “Obi-Wan isn’t actually asleep. He’s put himself in a meditative trance so he’d heal faster. He can hear everything I say, isn’t that right, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan remained still, chest rising high and falling low. 

“He’s in a very deep one, which means he wouldn’t feel it if I do this.” Anakin tickled Obi-Wan’s side. “Or this.” Anakin tugged the edges of his pale moustache. “Or this.” He poked Obi-Wan in the cheek hard, once, twice. “Wake up, old man. I have a lot to discuss with you.” Still, Obi-Wan did not stir. Anakin sank into the chair by the bed, elbows on knees, sighing. “One mission that you don’t hurt yourself — is that too much to ask?”

This was the Anakin Rusty was used to seeing in the cantina with Obi-Wan, not the moody, sulking pretender from the past few days. Rusty wanted to ask why Anakin did not act like this when Obi-Wan was awake but the air around Anakin had turned quiet, heavy, and with painful tenderness, Anakin stroked Obi-Wan’s cheek.

Rusty’s memory banks grew heated from information retrieval. He recognised that expression on Anakin’s face and beeped, - _Oh, I see. You’re in love with him._ -

It snapped Anakin out of his stupor. He raised his brow at Rusty, having been too distracted to consult his datapad. Rusty spun his head from side-to-side. It wasn’t important. He rolled out of the med-bay and back to Anakin’s room. 

He knew the protocol. Lovers wanted time alone. 

 

x

 

There was a hand patting Anakin’s head and for one sleep-hazy moment, Anakin thought it was Padmé and leaned into the touch. The hand quickly withdrew itself, leaving a cold patch of absence that prompted Anakin to lift his head from his arms, blink blearily and see that Obi-Wan was awake.

Anakin shot up from his seat, hastily rubbing his eyes. He had an apology for sleeping on Obi-Wan ready on his tongue. With the carelessness of one newly woken, he called Obi-Wan ‘master’.

Obi-Wan grimaced.

Anakin tried not to be offended by it. After all, he had been so callous with Obi-Wan lately. 

He had been planning to leave the Jedi Order, to start a family with Padmé, but every time he tried to tell Obi-Wan, some new reason popped up to dissuade him. In between assignments on Coruscant, Obi-Wan’s time was tied up in council meetings and Anakin’s by Chancellor Palpatine. And off-planet they were required everywhere; to aid Quinlan Vos in the skirmishes in the Middle Rim, to broker peace between the religious factions on Gerae, to go undercover and retrieve intelligence from the dangerous mercenaries Dooku had once allied with. The distractions were endless and the war with the Separatists raged on. 

And so, Anakin thought the best way to do it was by attrition. If Obi-Wan could be accustomed to Anakin’s absence, he would not suffer too much when Anakin finally told him of his decision. However, the Council kept assigning him with Obi-Wan, despite Anakin’s protests. The only option left appeared to be to keep Obi-Wan at arm’s length. But even then, Anakin wondered how successful he was in that endevour. Rusty had been right. In his efforts to ease their eventual parting of ways, he's hurt Obi-Wan. Anakin did not know how things stood between them now.

Obi-Wan shifted to sit up on the bed. Discomfort showed through the crack of exhaustion on his face. Anakin wondered if the cabin steward had given him the full report of what had happened because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan this feeble. Obi-Wan had always been tired, yes, but not this _weak_. Perhaps it was age. 

Tamping down on his worry, Anakin delivered a report of his findings on the Separatist droid, Tass’s misgivings about Faravi, and the conversation he’d overheard. 

“That explains why I couldn’t trace the transmission,” said Obi-Wan. “Someone had pinged it off so many transceivers to hide the fact it was coming from the Queen Loma itself. What a waste of time, especially as the transmission wasn’t important.”

“Since when are Seppie threats unimportant?”

“When they’re not threats. The message was meant to scare the senators. It didn’t actually threaten to do anything.”

“Perhaps they’re past threatening. Based on what I heard, this ship isn’t even meant to be flying right now. If Dooku wants everyone on the list taken care of, a bomb would be the quickest way to do that.”

“Then why bother with the message at all? I can’t help but feel these are distractions. Smoke and shadows to hide whatever’s going on here. And there’s something I have to tell you.” The lines of Obi-Wan’s forehead became more pronounced. “Do you remember the two names on the list not accounted for in the passenger manifest? The person Master Nu mentioned before she was cut off—“

“That’s irrelevant,” said Anakin. At Obi-Wan’s look of surprise, he sighed. “Of course I know who it is. I knew it the moment she mentioned Naboo. But Padme’s not here. I’ve double-checked the manifest and the guests who checked in.”

Obi-Wan calmly picked up his comlink. “Padmé, can you get away?”

Anakin frowned. “That’s not funny.” 

A female voice filtered through the handheld device. “ _Give me a few minutes._ ”

A Thousand Moons matron entered the room. Upon seeing Anakin, she detached the lower half of her headdress. From behind the swaths of golden cloth, Padmé smiled at him. 

Jaw slack with shock, Anakin took her in his arms. This close, he could feel the protruding curve of her belly; a gentle swell that hadn’t been there before. His grip on her tightened. “What are you doing here?”

Padmé went to sit beside Obi-Wan. “That’s what I want to know. I was flying home from a relocation effort on Giju when my ship was beamed aboard this liner. All my attempts at communication went unanswered so I hid in the hold and snuck out when no one was looking.”

Recalling reports of a stranded civilian ship found near Giju several days ago, Anakin said, “I was told it was empty, that it had been left over from a pirate attack.”

“Someone has been lying to you. I had Threepio and Artoo take off in the escape pod so they thought I’d gone. I was lucky. I ran into Uncle Ona. He’s been hiding me ever since,” said Padmé.

“Uncle who now?”

“Onaconda Farr, the senator from Rodia,” Obi-Wan supplied.

“He’s a family friend,” said Padmé.

“He’s a target. As are you. Both your names are on a list extracted from a Separatist agent days ago. Your presence here is part of a plan.” Obi-Wan fell silent when the medic-droid rolled into the room, holding up a cup of pills. 

“For your pain, Master Jedi,” it said.

Obi-Wan downed them and waved the droid away. 

“Since when do you take painkillers?” said Anakin. 

“The cabin steward insisted. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I took them the first time.”

That cabin steward had been clinging on to Obi-Wan earlier as well. “You should be wary about getting attached to Umbarans. They make terrible friends with their hypnotic abilities and all,” said Anakin, not noticing the curious look Padmé threw at him. 

“Don’t be silly, Anakin. I’m a Jedi. I don’t form attachments,” said Obi-Wan. 

Anakin shut his mouth with a hard click, knowing that anything he tried to say now would come out wrong. Like, ‘what about me? Aren’t you attached to me?’

It felt as if someone had slipped ice down his throat and jammed his heart with it. 

At his side, Padmé said softly, “Ani?”

“We need that second name on the list,” said Obi-Wan, business as usual. “There’s a chance it’s another person who’s been coerced onto the ship and he’s the one Dooku’s really after.”

“I’ll go get Rusty. He has the list.” Anakin’s voice sounded hollow to his own ears. He needed to get out of the room. “Padmé, do you want me to walk you back to Senator Farr’s rooms?”

“I’ll stay here until you get…Rusty,” said Padmé.

Anakin offered her a weak smile. “You’ll like him. He’s a lot like Artoo.” He left, so preoccupied with his own roiling emotions that he missed the heavy air settling between Obi-Wan and Padmé.

Padmé folded her hands in her lap. “How long have you known?”

Obi-Wan fought the desire to fidget. He has never received such a cool reception from Padmé. “About a few hours.”

“Really?”

“I only realised when I saw you earlier. You’re beginning to show.” He shot a pointed look at her belly. “Anakin would not have tried anything with you unless the two of you were married. That’s how I knew.”

“All this time you never suspected?”

It was an innocent question but Obi-Wan read a different implication underneath it: that he had been blind not to see it. The unintended jab stung. “I suspected a romance, not a marriage. Much less a baby.” He had blinded himself so that he could continue harbouring the hope that Anakin would choose the Jedi over love; choose _him_ over Padmé. It was foolish. It went against everything Obi-Wan knew about Anakin. "He will not remain with the Jedi, not when the promise of a family with you is so real. And he knows this will upset me so he decided to severe our closeness to curb my disappointment. All I can do is support his choice by helping him along.”

After a moment of laser scrutiny, Padmé scoffed softly. “Aren’t you quick to throw him away.”

Obi-Wan gaped at her, anger filling him so quickly it left him dizzy and weak. “How dare you.”

“Isn’t it true? Here he was, struggling to tell you something important for fear of how you might react and here you are already ready to cut him loose. _I’m a Jedi. I don’t form attachments._ You knew how that would cut him. You know how much he loves you.”

Obi-Wan found it difficult to breathe. “He shouldn’t. We are Jedi.”

Were he not convalescing, Obi-Wan was sure Padmé would’ve slapped him, judging by the look on her face. Here was a proper custodian for Anakin’s feelings. She would guard him like a newly-mated tusk cat. She would love and nurture him like Obi-Wan was never allowed to and there was no jar big enough in the galaxy to contain his envy. 

His chest felt tight, constricted. It felt as if something heavy was sitting on him. He swallowed around the hard thing in his throat, trying to get his words out, not realising that Padmé has been speaking to him for a while now and that he couldn’t hear her.

 

x

 

The bar on the lower deck was crowded. After the ordeal, the passengers who did not have a private suite stocked with its own minibar flocked to the counter to make sense of their day through alcohol. The choice was limited as plenty of the liquor had fallen and spilled into the carpet when the Queen Loma had done an impression of a see-saw. Anakin demanded three drinks the bartender could not give him and finally settled with a shot of Alderaanian brandy he could not rightly afford. He just needed the one drink to warm himself up. 

It could not be so wrong to take a drink. After all, Obi-Wan did so himself. No, it was his other failings that caused Obi-Wan maintain such level-headed coolness when it concerned him. Like how he never learned to make tea the proper way, or how Anakin only ever did half the meditations Obi-Wan prescribed to him. Like how even though they called him the Chosen One, he’s accumulated as many demerits and accomplishments within the Order. He was certain they only promoted him because they were short on Knights on the field. Anakin sighed. Or maybe it was something more personal. Maybe it was because all Obi-Wan saw in Anakin was his own failure at training a proper Jedi. Whichever it was, Obi-Wan would not be too sorry to see him go at the very least. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?

Anakin drained the glass, the brandy burning the back of his throat.

He heard someone whistle. “Didn’t know the Jedi could put it away like that. I’m impressed.”

Anakin’s eyes widened with surprise. It was Memah Roothes, the owner of the Soft Heart Cantina. She tossed her lekku over a naked blue shoulder and slid into the seat next to him. “I heard the Jedi were around but I didn’t think it’d be you, Skywalker. Is your handsome Master here too?” She made a show of looking around. 

Anakin glowered at her as she made her order. “Rusty told me you took a holiday. I didn’t realise you picked this,”

Memah snorted. “You’re still talking to that rust bucket?”

“I took him in because _you_ left him with nowhere to go. You can’t do that, you know. It’s against the law.”

Memah made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what I had to put up with. He’s lucky I didn’t leave him in the Factory District with the rest of the crazy droids.” At Anakin’s confused frown, Memah sighed. “He has a bad habit of zapping customers. Not just the noisy ones who give trouble but even the ones he plain didn’t like. I tried to give him a memory wipe to kick that sass out of him but he’d run away, recharge when I couldn’t see him.” This account was so different from Anakin’s experience with Rusty in the cantina that Memah patted his hand. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a sweetheart but I don’t need a droid with so much history.” She went on to explain how Rusty would sometimes forget orders as soon as he delivered them, which made compiling the cheques a major annoyance. It led Memah to suspect that Rusty was hoarding so much on his memory banks that he shod new information like day-old clothes. “So I tell him, delete some of that old stuff but he straight out refuses. He says they’re important memories.”

“You mean like memories of Sef Tran?” 

“I suspect so. It’s the reason I bought him in the first place. No matter what I did he wouldn’t show me anything.”

“Why would you be interested in some trainee starpilot?”

Memah looked at him like he was some idiot. “Because she’s the one who tried to marry that Murachaun prince.”

Anakin remembered the uproar that followed that scandal. In the history of Nahsu Minor, the Murachaun royalty had never taken a lover outside their species. “But what does that have to do with Rusty? Sef Tran dumped him straight out of flight academy.”

“Was that what he told you?” Memah laughed, eyes glinting. “Honey, he was with her right up till her execution. Rumour is she got shot down right in front of him.”

At his hip, Anakin’s comlink erupted into life. Apologising absentmindedly to Memah, Anakin picked up the call and was nearly deafened by the klaxons clanging on the other end of the line. Through the racket, Anakin could barely make out Tass’s reedy voice. “Anakin, it’s the Chagrian. He’s escaped the brig somehow and shooting at the other engines. Please come quick!”

“Take care my drink,” said Anakin, jamming his comlink down his tunic, too hurried to fix it back on his hip. “I’ll pay you later.”

“Skywalker!” Memah squawked in protest. 

But Anakin was gone, eager for something urgent to take his mind of these new revelations that he didn’t notice the flashing of his comlink, its gentle vibration against his torso, and missed Padmé’s call. 

 

x

 

Rusty knew about love. He’s seen it before. 

On Nahsu Minor, the rule was strict and clear: no native Murachaun was allowed to have relations with a heretic and to them, anyone who wasn’t Murachaun was a heretic. Still, Sef Tran wanted the prince and as inadvisable as a relationship between them was, the prince promised to marry her. 

Rusty had known what the consequences were. He’d downloaded the entire constitution of Nahsu Minor just to be sure. He’d reminded Sef Tran of them again and again but she was a headstrong girl. Most starpilots were. Fast, arrogant and confident until their luck ran out. 

Sef Tran’s luck had run out above five months into her affair with the prince. The palace guards had caught them in the prince’s bedroom and had given chase. Rusty had been ready with the ship at the landing platform, already thinking about the speed at which they could escape without the ship falling apart, about the scolding he would give her even if that meant she would switch him off. Sef Tran had been five feet away from him when they gunned her down. 

Rusty kept that memory but never took it out. It was still sharp. Still fresh. The shock on her face when she was hit, the flourish of her green head-tresses as she fell, never to get up again. 

Instead, Rusty would review the time Sef Tran had with her prince. He had hours and hours of recording. In one they stargazed and in another, Sef Tran taught the prince how to swim, and in another they held one another and talked off building a home on a star so far away they could not see it in the Nahsu Minor night sky. They both wore that look on their faces. One part fear, one part sadness, two parts hope, one part affection, with the last two switching quantities depending on the situation.

He had been so happy when Sef Tran had come back for him, so eager to help her that he risked her life. He shouldn’t have let her make stupid decisions just because she was in love. He thought about Anakin and how he looked at Obi-Wan. (With Anakin, the measures were different — three parts fear, two parts sadness, two parts affection and no hope at all.) He thought about kind, wonderful Padmé, who was married to Anakin, and wondered if this would also end with some dying. Rusty hoped not. He’s had enough owners dying on him. 

The comm systems in Anakin’s room crackled to life and Rusty was startled into keeping his memories. “ _Anakin, are you there?_ ” It was a woman’s voice, high-pitched and desperate. “ _Anakin, if you’re there please hurry to the med-bay. There’s something wrong with Obi-Wan._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I hope you're enjoying it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, if you've been reading this fic since I first posted this, I'm so sorry it took me nearly a year to update. I'd been all for abandoning this story but my story-angel Liz said she actually wants to know how this ends. She's put up with so much whinging from me. She actually beta-ed this chapter _ages_ ago. It's me who's terrible at cleaning up my stories and actually posting them. 
> 
> So Liz, once again, thank you for holding my hand and I miss you loads.

Rusty burst into the med-bay to the sound of a woman yelling at the medic-droid, trying unsuccessfully to force a breathing tube down Obi-Wan’s throat. Obi-Wan convulsed on the narrow sickbed, his usual pink complexion now closer to a shade of blue. His eyes were wide red; his jaws stretched open in a silent cry. The comlink by his bed flashed incessantly, washing the incompetent medic-droid in sinister red light every half second.

The woman snatched up the comlink, “Anakin, is that you?”

She yelped, dropping it as Rusty rammed the medic-droid until it fell upon its side. He flicked out his electric prod threateningly and chased it away from Obi-Wan's bed.

The medic-droid spluttered at him. “What are you doing? I’m trying to help Master Kenobi." A metallic voice with little inflection through the vocoder.

Keeping his prod trained on the droid, Rusty demanded to know what medication it had given Obi-Wan earlier. Those pills had not looked like any painkillers Rusty had seen before. 

“Anti-ox tablets. I was told that with Master Kenobi’s special constitution the withholding of oxygen would aid in his recovery rate.”

Behind him, Rusty heard the woman exclaim. He watched in amazement as she rummaged the cabinets and quickly put together an oxygen cocktail.

“Are you Rusty?” the woman asked, intelligent brown eyes peering over the golden cloth that covered her nose and mouth. Rusty remembered her. She was the Thousand Moons matron who had run into him earlier. “That call was from Anakin. He was ambushed and now he’s trapped in the brig. I need you to go help him.” She knocked away Obi-Wan’s scrabbling fingers and injected the cocktail into the side of his neck. 

Obi-Wan seized upwards, drawing in a large breath that tore a harsh ripping sound from his throat.

The matron rambled soothing reassurances as Obi-Wan dug trembling fingers into the front of her dress. He made shapes with his lips but no sound came out. “Don’t try to speak yet. Calm down. Anakin can wait,” said the matron. 

The medic-droid made a confused sound when Obi-Wan refused to let it near him, still thinking it had done no wrong. When it persisted, Obi-Wan flung it away with a careless wave of his hand. The droid crashed against the wall and crumpled in against itself in a sad heap on the floor. For the first time in his long acquaintance with Obi-Wan, Rusty felt a twinge of fear. Obi-Wan did not look like himself. At this moment, he resembled some hellish creature with his bloodshot eyes and guttural heaving.

The matron hurriedly went to switch the medic-droid off before more damage could be done while Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sank into meditation. Gratified to see Obi-Wan on the mend, Rusty made for the brig to help Anakin. He was trampled over when the door slid open and a Rodian in a ruby red robe rushed in, grabbing the matron by her arms. 

“Thank the planets! I have been looking everywhere for you!” said the Rodian. 

“Uncle Ono, what’s the matter?” said the matron. 

Senator Onaconda Farr wrung his hands. “The security staff have been trawling the corridors and taking any senator they find as hostages. They’re asking ransoms from both the Senate and the senatorial home planets.” 

The commotion shocked Obi-Wan out of his meditation and he pinched the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing deeply. Rusty brought him a breathing mask attached to a tank of oxygen and chirped softly to get his attention. Startled, Obi-Wan thanked him and fixed the mask over his nose and mouth. 

“Will you show Senator Farr the list?” Obi-Wan said after he took in enough oxygen at one go. He still sounded as if he had swallowed mouthfuls of gravel. He could not hide his wince as he stood up. “Check if any of the senators who aren’t on the Separatist list are being held hostage. Besides the two present here, of course.”

The matron protested. “You need more rest.”

“Security went from room to room hunting. I only escaped because I’ve been vigilant ever since I found her onboard.” Senator Farr nodded at the matron. 

“Then it’s more likely that they are the pirates we have been sent to watch out for than Separatists. Pirates who have taken advantage of the confusion to carve out a very lucrative payday,” said Obi-Wan. 

Senator Farr turned to the matron. “We have to get safely away before they find us too. My ship is outfitted and waiting in the docking bay.”

The matron drew away from Senator Farr and went to stand beside Obi-Wan. “Anakin and Obi-Wan need help. I cannot leave them now.”

“This is not our place. The Jedi can take care of themselves.”

“Actually, we're a bit outnumbered,” Obi-Wan pointed out. 

“Master Kenobi,” said Senator Farr disapprovingly, curling a protective hand around the matron’s upper arm. 

“I need someone to contact the Jedi Council. With myself injured and Anakin trapped, we need more help to round up these pirates before they harm the senators and the civilians on this liner. Captain Faravi keeps a HoloNet transceiver in her private cabin. Rusty has been there before and can show you the way. As soon as the message is transmitted, you can escape,” Obi-Wan promised.

“And why can’t you do this, Master Kenobi?” said Senator Farr. 

“I need to go free Anakin.”

“Surely Knight Skywalker can wait while you-“

“Uncle, this is no time to argue. All I need to do is send a message. You can wait for me in the docking bay if you like,” said the matron.

“I will not!” Senator Farr said hotly.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan directed a sombre nod at the matron. Once he made sure the corridors were free of patrolling pirates, he left, pretending that his step did not limp and his breaths were not laborious.

Senator Farr and the matron were silent as Rusty showed them the way to Faravi’s cabin. Rusty’s emotional capacitors might be old but even he could tell that not all was well between them. 

“Your parents gave me the honour of being your uncle,” Senator Farr said in a quiet voice. “And here I am letting you put yourself in danger while you are in my care.”

The matron’s response was quick but kind. “If we let the Separatists have their way, we will all be in danger. I cannot run away now.”

“You are barely thirty, child. Yet how many assassination attempts have you survived?”

Conversation was effectively ended when they arrived at the cabin. Rusty did a discreet bomb check of the room as Senator Farr stood aside and the matron went to work on the HoloNet transceiver. After a few minutes of tinkering, the matron called Rusty over. “It’s completely offline. Do you think you can bring it on again?”

Rusty opened up a panel in the transceiver and beeped in surprise at the cut wires. Someone had done a thorough job of mangling it. He took out his soldering arm to try and make the best of it and told the matron to give it a try when he was done. 

“This is the Queen Loma hailing the Jedi Council. Who speaks?” said the matron. 

A green holographic figure stuttered onto the transceiver platform. “This is Jedi Master Mace Windu. We have been trying to reestablish contact. Is Master Kenobi or Knight Skywalker there?” The matron snatched the golden veil off her face. Mace Windu gasped. “Senator Amidala?”

Rusty fixed his radar-eye on her in shock. It was Padmé!

“We need help,” said Padmé, but was unable to say more because a blaster shot took out the transceiver. 

Al Mavra entered the cabin, the silver around his eyes shimmering hypnotically. “Why Senator Amidala, I had no idea you were onboard.” He stepped further into the cabin, allowing the two hulking figures behind him to come forward with blasters trained on Padmé and Senator Farr. 

One of them was Narka the Chagrian, newly freed from the brig. He moved towards Padmé but Senator Farr stepped between them. 

“You will not harm her.” Senator Farr narrowed his bulbous eyes. 

“I have no reason to hurt either of you,” said Al Mavra, voice like silk. “But it’s dangerous to wander the ship at this time what with pirates and Separatists roaming around. You should follow my guards and join the other senators where it’s safe.”

Senator Farr stared blankly at him. “That sounds very reasonable.”

“Yes,” Padmé agreed with a faraway voice. Taking Senator Farr’s outstretched arm, she marched towards Al Mavra and his unsavoury-looking guards.

Rusty couldn’t believe this. Had Obi-Wan not told them that it was Al Mavra who tried to poison him? Did flesh sentients not communicate important information such as this? With a great heave, he latched onto the back of Padmé’s long skirt and pulled, causing her to trip and fall to her knees. 

The pain of the fall jarred her out of her stupor. She lunged forward, knocking the nearest guard off balance and snatched his blaster before he could reach her. She used it to stun him and then aimed it at Narka, who had knocked Senator Farr unconscious and was now bodily dragging him away. Before she could take the shot, Al Mavra grabbed her arm and twisted it until she dropped the blaster. 

“They warned me about you, Senator Amidala.” Al Mavra smiled, all teeth. His pale eyes were even more menacing up close. “You have been in quite a number of battles for a politician.” He screamed when Rusty stuck him in the side with his prod, sending volts of electricity through his body. 

Padmé seized the opportunity to take up the blaster and -

“Drop it, please.” Al Mavra’s eyes glittered. 

Padmé blinked slowly, her fingers growing lax.

Not understanding why Padmé wasn’t shooting, Rusty charged at Al Mavra at full speed, electric prod at the ready. The Umbaran snarled and shoved him away. Rusty tipped, crashed onto his side, treads spinning uselessly in the air. He tried to extending his balancing strut to right himself but the opening jammed against the floor. 

Al Mavra loomed over Padmé and stroked his cheek with his pale hand. 

Rusty whined angrily, panicked. This was Padmé. His first owner. Anakin’s wife. He had to do something. 

“It’s a pity the Separatists want you dead so badly,” said Al Mavra, layering charm upon charm in his silver gaze, smiling as Padmé’s eyes grew increasingly clouded. “I could have fetched a high price for you. There’s a market for-” A blaster shot tore through his knee and he fell to the ground, gasping. 

The grey receded from Padmé’s gaze as she brought up her blaster. “Did they not also warn you about my trigger finger?” She forced Al Mavra’s forehead to the ground so he could not hypnotise her again. “You have very few options available to you right now, pirate. Either you cooperate with me to fix this mess —“

“Or what? Your reputation precedes you, Senator Amidala. You will not bloody your hands.” Al Mavra’s laugh was cut short by the press of the blaster muzzle against the back of his head. 

“Where are you holding the other senators?”

“You’re out of your depth. It’s only a matter of time before my friends find me.”

“Tell me what Count Dooku wants with this ship.”

“You just keep trying. See if this works.”

A short silence followed in which Al Mavra grinned, thinking he’s won. Then Padmé said, “You reprogrammed that medic-droid to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi, didn’t you? If my reputation precedes me, then I am sure you have heard what they say about Skywalker and Kenobi. What do you think would happen if I tell Skywalker that you nearly killed his Master?”

Al Mavra went very still. “Ah, Kenobi is still alive? I shall have to try again then,” he said but there was a new smallness to his voice. 

“I will tell him it was Al Mavra of Umbara, the cabin steward, who tried to kill Obi-Wan is such a cruel, painful way.”

“He is a Jedi. They’re all bound by the same pathetic code—“

“And you’re so easy to find too. There aren’t many Umbarans in the Outer Rim. It would be very difficult to hide those eyes.”

“You wouldn’t,” Al Mavra snarled. 

“Plenty of people have tried to tell me what I will and will not do today. I suggest you do not test me,” said Padmé. 

- _You have grown so much_ -, Rusty chirped after Padmé finished interrogating Al Mavra and locked him in Faravi’s fresher. Rusty soldered the fresher door shut for good measure. - _It has been so many years. Do you still recognise me? Or have I changed too much? I have not had a say in my modifications._ -

But Padmé was too preoccupied to translate his droidspeak. Another call was trying to make it through the broken HoloNet transceiver. The station was in such a broken state that the call was audio only. A stilted mechanical voice said, “ _No, no, don’t push that, Artoo. That would take us back._ ” Padmé tried to salvage it but the call dropped. 

Picking up her comlink, Padmé contacted Obi-Wan, who has managed to spring Anakin from the brig without too much difficulty despite his diminished health. As they arranged a rendezvous at the docking bay, Rusty stared at her back sadly. - _It’s been too long, hasn’t it?-_

 

x

 

Padmé and Rusty hid behind some storage crates in the docking bay until Padmé spotted Anakin beckoning at her from the ramp of a small starship. As soon as Padmé and Rusty boarded safely, Anakin lifted the ramp, closing them in the small cockpit with Obi-Wan and to their surprise, Captain Faravi, hunching her shoulders to fit her large height in the small space.

“She was locked in the brig with Anakin,” Obi-Wan explained dryly. There was colour in his cheeks but Rusty noticed the way he was discreetly leaning against the console for support. “Somehow she’d missed the fact that her entire crew were pirates.”

Anakin nodded. “Including engineering. Tass and his crew ambushed me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who set the engine on fire in the first place.”

“They were not pirates when I first sailed with them.” Faravi brought her fist down on one knee. The scales near her temple were black with dried blood; one of the epaulets on her previously immaculate purple coat ripped off. “They are…” She trailed off, muttering in her native Murachaun. 

Although Faravi appeared to be genuinely upset by the betrayal, Rusty had long nursed a general distrust of Murachauns, so he insinuated himself between the good captain and Anakin. 

“Hey there, buddy.” Anakin beamed, resting his hand on Rusty’s head. Rusty slid closer to him until he bumped up against Anakin’s leg. “I’m so glad to see you too.”

Rusty whirred happily.

“I owe him,” said Padmé, smiling gently. “If it weren’t for him, I’d have been captured with the rest of the senators.”

“Do we know where these pirates are keeping them?” said Obi-Wan. 

“In stateroom 8 on the Durasha deck,” said Padmé.

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open. “That’s my room!” 

Padmé spared him an amused grin. “Really? I was told they chose that room because it appeared unoccupied so there would be no unknown objects the senators could use as weapons.”

“I simply had no effects to fill it with. I’m not sure how anyone could, have you seen the size of it?”

Anakin rolled his eyes at them. “We’d need to draw the pirates’ attention away from them and guide them to safety. The civilians have been keeping to their own rooms so far, but we need to assume that their safety will also be at risk if we engage the pirates openly.”

“And Al Mavra knows this cruiser as well as I do. He’s aware of all the openings and exits into that room. We cannot trick him by coming in through an air vent,” said Faravi.

“Ah.” Padmé flushed. 

“Ah?” Obi-Wan enquired. 

After a brief moment of catching the rest up, Anakin exclaimed, equal parts shocked and proud, “You locked him up in the fresher?”

“I knocked him out and took away his comms unit,” said Padmé reassuringly. “It will be a while before he can cause us any trouble.”

“But he’s a pirate?” 

“From the way he speaks, he’s definitely not a Separatist.”

Anakin sighed loudly. “But this makes no sense. What does this entire plot have to do with the Separatists? If the pirates are holding all the senators, then the list makes no difference, does it?”

“It does if the pirates kill them instead of releasing them,” said Obi-Wan. That shut them all up. “The list is long and varied enough that the death of those senators would send the Senate into irreparable instability. You must have distinguished yourself, Padmé, to have been put on this list even though you had not planned to holiday here.” Obi-Wan gave her a wry smile, which he dropped when she did not return it. 

Padmé knelt down beside Rusty. “Earlier in the med-bay you mentioned there was one more name on the Separatist list which didn’t correspond with the passenger manifest. Rusty, would you bring it up, please?”

Rusty rolled backwards, surprised at the unexpected request. He did quick run through his memory systems and chirped out the letters, which Padmé translated on her comlink. “I didn’t think Al Mavra was lying when I interrogated him, but this confirms it.” She showed the display of the comlink to the rest.

Osk. krill. Stewjon. 

Anakin drew a sharp breath. Even without the initials, the name was obvious. There has only ever been one notable figure to have come out of that backwater planet. He turned to Obi-Wan, whose confusion showed clear on his face. All Jedi was an enemy to the Separatists. So why was Obi-Wan the only Jedi name on that long list of senators? 

- _Is that why the cabin steward poisoned you?_ \- Rusty whistled at Obi-Wan. 

“What?” said Anakin.

Obi-Wan gave a careless wave with his hand.  “He tried.”

Either unheeding or uncaring of the tension in the air, Faravi cleared her throat. “We’ll need to move quickly. The crew will grow more suspicious with every passing minute of Al Mavra’s absence.”

The four of them bowed their heads together with Rusty edging in just so he could keep Faravi from knocking knees with Anakin. Faravi directed an annoyed kick at Rusty and then scowling hard, shook her long head. 

After they had finalised their plans, Obi-Wan called Anakin to follow him out of the ship to further discuss their exit strategy. Torn between leaving Padmé alone with a Murachaun and being close to Anakin, Rusty decided to stay put just in case Faravi turned out to be anything less than trustworthy. It was not as if he could not observe Anakin and Obi-Wan from the cockpit. From the way they were looking at each other, their discussion was not going well. 

 

x

 

Anakin stared at the back of Obi-Wan’s head as the other man counted the number of personal starships on the platform, murmuring, “There’s just barely enough but if we can squeeze five into one of the smaller ones we might just get them out. Anakin?” Obi-Wan turned when Anakin didn’t respond. 

It wasn’t fair. There’d been barely enough time for Anakin to release his emotions into the Force. He was still bubbling with barely-contained rage. “Were you ever going to tell me that you were poisoned?”

“We run into dangers all the time on missions. I don’t understand your concern now.”

“I’m concerned because those pirates nearly succeeded. I had wondered why you were so short of breath. Even now you can’t run without bending over.”

“Which is why I get the easiest bit of the plan.” 

But Obi-Wan’s attempt at levity only stirred further unrest in Anakin’s pool of frustration; one that had existed ever since he learned about Obi-Wan’s propensity of endangering himself during missions. With this latest mission, with the knowledge that Anakin would soon leave the Order and there would be no one to watch Obi-Wan’s back and worst of all, Obi-Wan probably didn’t _care_ , the pool overflowed. 

Obi-Wan saw the temper brewing behind Anakin’s eyes and tsked. “I would ask you to be mindful of your thoughts but I understand that is no longer my place. Not that you ever listened to my counsel unless it served your purposes.”

The temper rising within Anakin peaked into a swirling black mass, steadily leeching warmth from the air around him. “If you are quite done,” Anakin spat. 

“Anakin,” said Obi-Wan, surprised at the venom. He’d known Anakin had a capacity for darkness but he’d never seen it arise over something so trivial. 

“I understand that you are not one to form connections but we spent years together and you won’t even tell me when something’s wrong?”

“What for, when you’re so eager to leave me? Don’t worry, I remember. I’ll ask the Council to stop assigning us on missions together once we’re done with this one.”

Anakin laughed at himself. All this time he had been worried about hurting Obi-Wan when he needn’t have at all. “Fine, if you’re so happy to rid of me then you’ll be _ecstatic_ to know that after this mission, I’m leaving the Order. Padmé and I are in love. We’re going to go off and start a family.” There. He had broken every rule about attachment Obi-Wan had tried to teach him. Surely that would provoke some kind of reaction from him. 

Obi-Wan’s answering smile was resigned. “And I hope the two of you will be very happy.”

Anakin stared at him, stunned. “ _You knew_.”

“I was your Master. I watched you grow up. Give me more credit.”

“So all this time you…was it to make it easier for me? Or are you really glad to be rid of me?” Anakin’s breath caught, voice hoarse. “Do you really not care about me? Was I really just a burden Qui-Gon dumped on you?”

“As if I could _ever_ …”

Anakin was shocked by the fingers on his chin, rough callouses from years of lightsaber training scraping against his jaw, angling his face to meet Obi-Wan in a kiss. 

It was as if someone had taken a knife to the most tender parts of him, but the sharp pain was edged with such exquisite pleasure of _finally_ that Anakin moaned and curled his hand around the back of Obi-Wan’s head. 

Obi-Wan shoved him away, trembling. Shocked by the abrupt end of their intimacy, Anakin stared helplessly at Obi-Wan. Silence descended, weighed by all the things that have gone unsaid between them. There were plenty of those and not all of them pleasant. Their bond in the Force thrummed as Obi-Wan's most important unsaid thing came to the forefront.

_I love you. But I shouldn’t and so, I won’t._

Anakin withdrew as if smacked. “Obi-Wan.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan stammered. “I shouldn’t have.” He wandered back towards Padmé and Faravi, shaking his head and exuding such regret, but not enough to stop hope from beating its wings in Anakin’s chest, which expanded so much it felt twice its size. 

Obi-Wan _loved_ him. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks so much Liz. The next chapter might come...soon. /nervous laughter/ And then this story will be done!

The atmosphere in Stateroom 8 was one of tension undercut by an urgency that was not present even in some of the most pressing Senate meetings. The current occupants could testify to that. After all, they were senators. They sat huddled in the stateroom’s recreational area; some glaring resentfully at others who managed to get a better seat at the sofa, some pacing back and forth on the expensive rug, some venturing to the bar area to soothe their nerves with overpriced Corellian brandy. All gave the door a wide berth. After they had been unceremoniously relieved of their bodyguards and thrown in together, they have quarrelled over what must be done, who should do it and so far, they were divided neatly down the middle. There were those who insisted they should pool their resources and make an escape and those who wished to wait for the Jedi’s rescue. 

Halle Burtoni of Kamino sniffed disdainfully, arguing that they had been sitting here for hours. If the Jedi could help them, they would have by now. The Jedi duo were vastly outnumbered by this pirate outfit. 

Aks Moe of Malastare shook his head, his three eye-stalks swaying with the motion. Clearly Senator Burtoni has not heard of what the Jedi were capable of. Just last week, General Billaba had single-handedly quelled a rebellion on Obroa-Skai. The Jedi were mystic users of the Force. Commonplace strength was not a match for them. 

The senator of Delphina countered that the Jedi were peacekeepers, who cared more for civilians than for important personnel. They believed in the collective good and didn’t care for politics. If the other senators did not believe her, they only needed to remember what happened to her predecessor. 

Aks Moe’s little daughter popped up from behind her father, though she did not relinquish her hold on his pant leg. She protested, saying that Skywalker and Kenobi were different. They were the heroes of the Republic. Their heroics have been screened on the HoloNet for the entire galaxy. They would not let them down. 

Delphina turned on the child, hissing that it was precisely because it was Skywalker and Kenobi that they cannot be trusted. Who did they think deposed her predecessor?

The arguing came to an abrupt pause when the door slid open and Senator Onaconda Farr was shoved in by the Chagrian pirate. The Chagrian lowered his horns in warning at the nervous group of senators and said, “Which one of you lot’s not done the holo-video yet?” Catching the way Aks Moe’s three eyes flickered away from him, the Chagrian closed his fist over Aks Moe’s skinny wrist and hauled him out despite the shrill entreaties from his small daughter. 

Delphina had to explain to Onaconda Farr that the pirates were taking them out one-by-one to film a holo-video, proving their captivity to the Senate. According to the chatter gathered from listening at the door, Thyferra has panicked and paid. 

The senator of Thyferra lowered his antlered head. 

The capture of the luxury liner had made every HoloNet channel ever since the pirates’s first transmission went out. The pirates were making this political, claiming that such a massive kidnapping of senators was made possible by the weakness of the Republic. 

Orn Free Taa bellowed that it was true. The Republic _was_ weak. He proceeded to name several senators in the room, blaming them for their current predicament because they were the ones who had voted against Chancellor Palpatine’s bill to increase the Republic’s standing army. Better that the pirates did away with these senators so that they could not stand in the way of progress. The only one missing from the present coterie was Senator Amidala. 

The accused senators quivered with outrage. It was an open secret that Orn Free Taa used his position to make lucrative trade deals that buttressed his wealth in Coruscant while allowing criminal Hutts to plunder his home planet of Ryloth to enslave more Twi’leks. That such an individual would dare speak high-mindedly at them!

As they continued to quarrel, Delphina explained to Senator Farr their plan to escape.

But what about the other passengers?” said Senator Farr, eyes growing round. “We would be leaving them to the mercy of the pirates.”

Delphina reasoned that they could not allow their pirates to blackmail their planets like that. The Republic will pay for the civilians. In any case, the pirates would not be able to demand as high a price if they only held civilians hostage. 

Senator Farr dipped his large head. “If we leave innocents to such danger, we will be as bad as the pirates.” 

Delphina protested and tried to point out the fallacy in his argument but Senator Farr stopped her. 

“I’m sure the Jedi are on their way,” he said. 

Delphina scoffed, barely refraining from shoving the Rodian senator away from her. She hadn’t thought Senator Farr to be one of those who blindly trusted. After all, Rodia had been suffering more than most from the war the Republic has waged against the Separatists. If the TK blockade succeeded, the citizens of Rodia would be starving in short order. 

A pained expression crossed Senator Farr’s features. “I have little choice in that regard.”

Before Delphina could extract more information from him, the door opened, a different pirate this time. He pushed in Aks Moe, who stumbled into his daughter’s arms. 

Close behind him came a strange droid, that looked halfway between a server droid and an astromech, carrying a jug of water on a tray magnetised to the flat top of its domed head. It rolled towards the closest senator. Senator Farr blinked slowly at it, hand hesitating over the jug and cup.

“Don’t say we never took care of you,” said the pirate before dragging another senator out and locking the stateroom behind him. 

As soon as the door slid shut, the droid threw off the tray, ignoring one senator’s shriek as he was drenched from head to toe. The droid leaned forward, a holo-message projecting from its radar-eye.

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s likeness materialised on the floor, prompting a collective sigh of relief from around the stateroom. “ _Respected senators, I need you to listen closely. In a short moment, this droid here will unlock the doors and you will be free to run. A path will be cleared for you towards the docking bay, where there will be a number of starships ready for takeoff. There aren’t enough ships to secure your comfort, but I believe that is no one’s priority here. My associates will be on the platform ready to guide you._ ” Although nervous, there was laughter around the room. They could escape. They were right to trust the Jedi.  But Obi-Wan wasn’t done. “ _There is something else I need to ask of one of you before I let the droid release you. The comm systems of this liner are down. No outside help can reach us unless we tell them where we are. To my knowledge, the only working transmitting system is being used by the pirates to send the hostage holo-videos. I need the next senator who will be taken to use it to send our coordinates to Coruscant._ ”

The laughter was then replaced by loud indignant noises. Was this not exactly the type of work the Jedi were trained for? This was too dangerous. Senators declared one-by-one that they were not doing this. To attempt that would be to antagonise the pirates directly. 

The hologram of Obi-Wan, who would could hear none of this, nevertheless had a response. “ _None of us wants to be in this situation, but I’m afraid this is the consequence of participating in war. We all have a part to play. This one is yours._ ”

One senator screamed at the droid, demanding that it tell Kenobi that he had a child with him and he was not doing anything that might endanger her. His voice only added to the ferment of unrest. 

They were wrong to believe the Jedi. Would the rest defy Palpatine’s attempt to safeguard the Republic now? What Obi-Wan Kenobi asked of them was too much. But was it really? They were all individuals gifted in their own way. Surely they could think of something. No! They became senators because they were good in diplomacy not this  sort of daredevilry. The Jedi had best come up with a different plan because none of them were going to volunteer for such tomfoole-

The noise broke away abruptly when Delphina and Senator Farr stood up at the same time, drawing surprised looks from all around the room. Even Senator Farr observed her ponderously.

Delphina did not understand their shock. From the beginning she had been saying that they could not rely on the Jedi to fight for them. Here was Obi-Wan Kenobi confirming her claims. 

When the door opened, it was the Chagrian again. The droid hid itself behind a partition as Delphina walked towards the Chagrian, nearly breaking her regal stride when all the other senators looked pointedly away from her. It would have been a giveaway to the plan had the Chagrian been paying closer attention. 

As the door slid close, cutting Delphina off sight with a soft hiss, the droid reemerged  and promptly hacked it open. It then sped out, emitting a high-pitched shriek that sounded like glee. 

In its place came Obi-Wan himself, looking slightly blue around the gills, so to speak. He surveyed the stunned crowd of senators with a resigned smile. “It was Sula Te of Delphina who went then? Good,” he said as if he’d expected the outcome. “She’s always been braver than her brother.”

 

x

 

Rusty cleared the corridor according to plan. He ran past all the pirates in the area with his magnetising unit activated so that their blasters shot out of the holsters and stuck to Rusty’s head. For those he did not manage to disarm, Rusty spilled oil in their path. They slipped trying to get their feet under them as Obi-Wan guided the senators to safety. 

In the midst of the messy exodus, Senator Farr grabbed the sleeve of Obi-Wan’s tunic. “Where is Padmé? Last I remember she was with that droid.” He pointed at Rusty.

“It’s alright, senator. You’ll meet her in a short while. She’s in the docking bay with the captain, preparing the ships for imminent escape,” Obi-Wan said. Senator Farr’s lips quivered disapprovingly, at which point Obi-Wan held up his hand to nip his protests in the bud. “Your concern for Senator Amidala is touching but I think she is more than capable of deciding her actions for herself.” 

Senator Farr knocked Obi-Wan’s hand away. “She’s _pregnant_ ,” he hissed under his breath. “Your former apprentice may think he is subtle with his coming and goings but her family is well aware. They have entrusted me with her safety on the Senate floor but to think that you, whom she consider one of her closest friends, would put her in the way of such danger in her delicate condition…I have misplaced my faith in you.” He stormed away after the other senators, leaving Obi-Wan solemnly mute in his wake. 

He picked up his comlink. “Anakin, are you in position?”

“ _Yes, but I’m not seeing any signs of - hang on, I see her. Intercepting Senator Sula Te’s escort now._ ” A few moments later. “ _She says she managed to get the coordinates out but we can’t confirm if Coruscant received them._ ”

“It will have to do. Bring her down to the landing platform quickly. Good job, Rusty.” Obi-Wan patted Rusty’s head when he caught up with him on the way to the docking bay.

Rusty beeped up at Obi-Wan, excited to have been included in the plan. But Rusty was not aware of a certain rule of the universe when it came to Kenobi-Skywalker missions: nothing ever went according to plan.

The doors of the docking bay slid open to a one-sided blaster fight. Senators tried to escape up into grounded shuttles as annoyed pirates chased after them with cuffs and blasters. A Sluissi wearing brown goggles slithered towards Obi-Wan, cavalierly tossing Anakin’s lightsaber between two clawed hands. 

“Did you not realise we could hack your comlinks too?” said the Sluissi, who identified himself as Tass, a member of the engineering crew. 

Behind him, Anakin, Padmé and Faravi were on their knees with blaster muzzles pressed against the back of their heads. Obi-Wan made an aborted move towards his lightsaber. Any other time and he would have knocked the pirates off balance with a push from the Force. But he daren’t risk Padmé. Senator Farr had been right. 

Tass whistled and the pirate guarding Anakin smashed his blaster against the side of his head. Anakin went to the floor, groaning. Rusty shrieked, rushing to help him but a magnetic lift passed overhead, easily collecting Rusty off his treads and trapping him above the ground helplessly. 

“Behave now, or Senator Amidala is next,” said Tass. 

“If you so much as touch her,” Anakin growled. 

“You are in no position to make threats now, Anakin.” Tass snatched Obi-Wan’s lightsaber out of his hand triumphantly. “It really is all your fault that we have resorted to this. Your war and your heightened security measures have made business difficult for us.”

“I had no idea Count Dooku was so sympathetic to the plight of pirates,” said Obi-Wan with a sardonic raise of his brow as his hands were cuffed behind him. “Tell me, was this moneymaking scheme part of his plan as well?”

Tass’s eyes gleamed, forked tongue darting out. “If we are to be assassins for the Separatists, then it will be for the biggest paychecks of our lives.”

Faravi snarled, “You’re committing a violation of _doyeh_.” She struggled against her captor, using her height to knock him over. She received a punch across the jaw for her efforts and was restrained again. “This was not agreed upon. You and Al Mavra have dirtied your words over this greed.”

Tass was silent for a moment before throwing his head back in peals of laughters. “Oh this is good. To be honest we had no idea if you were still holding on to that hokey religion. You seem the type, you Murachauns, but you hadn’t mentioned it for years.” Tass shrugged, eyes cold. “We’re here _because_ of greed, Jezi. You would have known that if you weren’t living in your head so much. Now tell me where you’ve hidden that silly Umbaran. He’ll be pissy if we leave without him.”

Faravi went purple with rage. “Filthy reptile. _Doysdeter._ ”

“Takes one to know one.”

“I have never- _”_ Faravi descended into apoplectic bursts of a language no one else understood. 

“As it is, we’ve already received sufficient ransom money. We’re moving on to the next stage of the plan.”

“The Senate paid?” said Padmé, frowning. 

“Of course not. But Dooku already predicted that the Senate would drag its feet.” Tass summoned Narka over to him. The hulking Chagrian, who had been resting after rounding up reluctant senators, heaved a loud grunt and came over. Tass held up placating arms. “You have the list, right? I need you to take care of every name on it.”

Narka popped his shoulders. “We don’t have enough blaster shots for so many executions.”

Obi-Wan’s back stiffened and he had to remind himself that this was a time of war. He should not be surprised by such ruthlessness any more. 

Tass shrugged. “I don’t care how you do it. Just make it quick. Kick them out the airlock for all I care. Start with Senator Amidala.”

“ _NO!_ ” The scream was torn from Anakin’s throat.

Padmé turned pale, but remained silent and directed a baleful glare at Tass.  

Anakin renewed his struggles until four pirates wrestled him down. They all yelped in surprise as they found themselves lifted off by the Force and were sent hurtling towards the far wall. Two blaster shots pierced Anakin, one through each kneecap. Anakin gave a pained cry and collapsed. 

Obi-Wan lunged forward to break his fall with his own body. His injured shoulder hit the floor in the bad way and his arms spasmed against the cuffs behind his back. He lowered Anakin gently, ignoring the soft noises of pain from his once-apprentice and stood up, chin high. His shoulder felt as if it was on fire. “Surely, you should start with me. I’m the one your Umbaran friend tried so hard to get rid of.” 

Tass made a show off mulling it over. “You’re right. A sound suggestion, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan walked forward and carefully insinuated himself between Padmé and her captors. He could see her disapproval clear on the cold blankness of her countenance. Obi-Wan gave a quick darting glance at her rounded stomach as he was led to the airlock. He was doing the right thing. He just needed to distract the pirates from Padmé and once all their attention was on him, he could - 

Obi-Wan gasped as he was gripped by the Force and lifted off his feet. He turned this way and there, fidgeting clumsily in the air as he was dragged back towards Anakin like a naughty pet caught by the scruff of his neck. Obi-Wan was about to scold Anakin for ruining his plan but Anakin, who was lying prostate on the floor, had grown dangerously silent. 

The air around them trembled. Doubt and paranoia infected the pirates as a sudden hush befell the platform for no discernible reason. But as abruptly as the hush came, it left. Whatever pressure that had filled the air escaped the moment Anakin overexerted himself and fell in a near dead faint over Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Shoot him!” said Narka.

Tass aimed a blaster at the both of them. “Move out of the way, Anakin.”

Anakin pushed his forehead into Obi-Wan’s stomach. Had his hands been free, Obi-Wan was certain Anakin would cage him in with his arms. He’s seen this overprotective side of Anakin before. But Anakin was forgetting something. Obi-Wan leaned over, so close than his moustache brushed the back of Anakin’s neck. “Either my safety or the safety of your unborn child,” he murmured. 

Anakin shook his head violently and through their existing bond, Obi-Wan could sense the source of Anakin’s distress. He did not want to choose. Obi-Wan could not force him to choose. 

“You already chose when you married her.” Obi-Wan drew away and stood up, tensing when he felt the muzzle of a blaster against the back of his head. 

Behind him, Tass said with a put-upon sigh, “Fine then. We’ll do this messy.”

Above them in his airborne prison, Rusty erupted into a cacophony of panicked bells and whistles. The pirates would not dare kill Obi-Wan in front of him, in front of _Anakin_. They couldn’t. He screamed, demanding to be let down. He’s let down Sef Tran before, he will now betray Anakin in a similar manner. He would -

A spacecraft crashed onto the platform. The chaotic nature of its arrival knocked people to their feet and blasters out of several hands. The spacecraft had been too small to alert the Queen Loma’s sensors, but the inferno that erupted as a result of the crash was large enough to roast any living creature inside. Half the pirates laid scattered across the platform, unconscious and suffering from burns while the rest were shaking their heads, already recovering from the shock. 

Fortunately, that was when the cavalry arrived. Fast behind the small spacecraft were several large carrier ships with the insignia of the Jedi Order emblazoned in white and red across its side. From one of these ships, Mace Windu and Depa Billaba climbed out of, lightsabers out and expressions forbidding. They did very little of the quelling as their squadrons of clone troopers were more than capable of disarming concussed pirates. 

Tass went reluctantly, casting a dirty look at Anakin as his hands were bound behind him. And yet, as he slithered away, his expression was almost remorseful. He hissed at Narka to stop his incessant grunting as the two of them were frog-marched up Mace Windu’s ship. 

“That took you long enough, Mace,” said Obi-Wan, rubbing his wrists after he had been freed. “The situation was nearly dire.”

“Don’t I get a thank you for rounding up the pirate shuttles that were flying around you like maggots?” said Mace Windu.

Obi-Wan pitched his voice lower in imitation of Mace’s. “ _You’ve had it hard, Obi-Wan. Good job, Obi-Wan, for handling the situation despite working with bad intelligence._ ”

Mace rolled his eyes. “Just when I thought the bad luck streak with you and Skywalker had broken. I have half a mind to have the Council equip you two with a clone trooper squadron _each_ to keep you out of trouble.” Mace raised a brow when Anakin remained silent, staring at his feet despondently. “Is there something wrong, Knight Skywalker?” he asked, frowning when he noticed that Senator Amidala was stroking Anakin’s arm consolingly.

“You should ask Obi-Wan, Master Windu,” said Anakin, voice hoarse. 

But Obi-Wan had already disappeared from their side to help Depa Billaba in coordinating the senators' trek back to their rooms. (He noticed Senator Sula Te of Delphina limping and tried to lend her a hand, but Sula Te sniffed and continued on.)

Above their heads, Rusty hung still. He wasn’t too upset that his captivity had been forgotten in the ensuing chaos of cleanup now that the trouble seemed to be over, what with the pirates soundly subdued. It had been far too close for his comfort.

Then came the voices. 

“I told you we should not have landed so harshly,” admonished a voice from inside the wreckage of the spacecraft that had crashed onto the platform. “Look at how many you have injured with your recklessness. What Mistress Padmé would say I dare not think!”

A gold-plated protocol droid emerged from the breaking ship with a blue-and-silver astromech, whistling rude words about his maker. Anakin snapped up to attention on the stretcher with a loud exclamation. “Artoo, Threepio, what are you doing here?”

“Master Anakin,” C3PO hobbled towards him with surprised delight, “you cannot imagine how wonderful it is to see you, or the uncouth things Artoo here was just saying about you. We had not meant to crash. We were on our way to Felucia to recruit aid as per Mistress Padmé’s instructions but then we intercepted her distress call to the Jedi Council and so Artoo decided it was better to return even though we brought no help at all. My sincerest apologies, mistress.” C3PO bent at the waist towards Padmé. 

Padmé smiled indulgently. “That’s alright, Threepio. Everything worked out fine in the end. Your arrival could not have been more timely.”

“Oh, I’m very glad to hear that, mistress. But the next time you send me to get help, you may be confident that I shall not return until I have found what you have asked.”

Anakin tuned out the old protocol droid as he continued to prattle on in his endearingly obtuse manner. He was in no mood for C3PO’s idiosyncrasies; not with Obi-Wan’s words haunting him. _You already chose when you married her._

A part of him thought Obi-Wan a fool. Padmé was different; Obi-Wan had to see that. The way Anakin loved Padmé had nothing to do with his love for Obi-Wan. But now he wasn’t sure. Perhaps Obi-Wan was right and he had no right to demand that Obi-Wan acknowledge his affections for him since he has Padmé. He didn’t regret marrying Padmé. Given the option, Anakin would make the same choice all over again. He saw a wonderful future with Padmé, filled with bright light, promise and children’s laughter. That potential was more precious to him than any number of missions with Obi-Wan and the Jedi Order. This was enough, Anakin told himself. Padmé was enough. 

But Obi-Wan loved him. 

“Artoo?” said Padmé, breaking Anakin out of his stupor, “where are you going?”

The astromech droid rolled towards the far corner of the platform where Rusty was still hanging from the magnet. Padmé let out of a cry of dismay. “We forgot him!”

Silently scolding himself for forgetting his friend, Anakin waved his hand at a control panel, switching the magnet off and cradled Rusty with the Force until he was safely on the ground again. As soon as Rusty’s treads touched solid ground, he raced towards Anakin, beeping excitedly. Anakin laughed in spite of his sombre mood. “I’m okay, really. Just a few minutes of bacta and I’ll be all patched up.”

From the side, Anakin heard C3PO officiously comment, “What a dirty droid.”

R2-D2, on the other hand, spun his head one way and then in the other direction, and then whistled in obvious confusion. - _What are you doing here, G8-R3?_ - 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks, Liz.

Rusty (or G8-R3, as he was then known) jolted into awareness from sleep mode at the sound of thundering footsteps as a small group unceremoniously boarded the starship and prepared it for flight. Rusty rolled out of his charging station, beeping softly in curiosity. In the months since he had been posted on the royal starship, not once had he been taken out to space. The Trade Federation had refused to withdraw their blockade and so they could not go anywhere. 

Yet, the pilot was now engaging the thrusters without properly warming the ion engines while a tall human with a craggy face gripped the back of the pilot’s seat and said with all seriousness, “Punch through it.”

The Gungan in his party screeched in dismay, pointing out the likelihood that their ship would likely be blown to pieces. 

A second human approached the one with the craggy face. Though his face was rounder and not at all craggy, he tried to affect the same stern expression as his friend. “The Trade Federation still has to answer to the Senate. Surely they won’t fire on a ship carrying the queen.” 

Rusty turned to his left, surprised that he had not recognised Padmé sooner. She was dressed in servant’s clothing, hiding behind one of her handmaidens. Rusty hadn’t seen her since her coronation. He pushed R2-D2 awake, excited to share the news. 

Then the ship shook as the Trade Federation demonstrated the seriousness of its blockade. 

The craggy human smiled wryly at his friend. “You have much to learn about how war is played, my young padawan, though I suspect you will have plenty of time to learn.”

The ship shook again, prompting a wash of red light over the cockpit. 

“What happened?” asked the young man Rusty would one day know as Obi-Wan. 

“Our shield generator took a hit,” said the pilot. “I’m sending the astromechs out.” 

R2-D2 yawned awake and rolled towards the transport lift behind the other astromechs, bumping into and arguing with the Gungan along the way. He whistled at Rusty, confused as to why he wasn’t following. 

Rusty hesitated, turning to look at Padmé and then at R2-D2. He’s never repaired a ship in the middle of a fire-fight before. The most he’d done was fix a navigation system during a play-fight between Padmé and her sisters. 

R2-D2 whistled impatiently. -Come on, G8-R3, this is what we’re made for.- 

And it was the truth of that statement that eventually convinced Rusty to follow his fellow droid out where targeted lasers were wreaking havoc on the ship’s exterior. He drove towards the ship’s right wing, where the other astromechs were bent over an exposed section; Rusty went down to work but in no time as all, one astromech was blasted off the ship. 

And then another. 

Rusty stared as the remains of R5-F7 hurtled away. R5 had been a new unit. Rusty had been staring enviously at her solar power cells for over a week and now they were bits of space debris. In that moment of dismay, he didn’t hear R2-D2’s warning screech, didn’t see the blast coming until the force of it shot him off the ship and took his legs clean off him. 

The next thing Rusty knew, he was tumbling in space in many different parts like petals drifting apart in water. His head was a foot away from him, his power distribution umbilical frayed and useless. 

The Naboo royal starship flew further and further away. On its wing stood R2-D2, the last remaining droid, growing ever smaller as the ship made its narrow escape from the Trade Federation. Rusty could see his old friend fix his radar-eye on him, silent in his horror. 

Rusty wanted to call out. Wait for me!

With his grasper arm, he reached for his head and boosted himself in the direction of the starship, working his side-propulsion booster turbines to their limit. But it was too late. The ship had squeezed into hyperdrive and was gone. 

And then Rusty could no longer move. His legs and regulator were shot to pieces and he was leaking fuel. He wondered what became of droids like him. What happened to droids scattered about in the vastness of space, a casual casualty of firefights? He didn’t want to know. 

With a low whine, he powered down, not expecting to be woken up. 

x

Aboard the deck of the Queen Loma, Rusty quietly kept the memory. Being his last memory of Padmé, he had reviewed it often and had taken no time at all in finding it for his current audience. Trust R2-D2 to recognise him despite all his modifications. Rusty chirped in amusement when R2-D2 let out a string of expletives, shocked that Rusty had survived and for this long. 

The humans were staring at Rusty with a mix of shock and awe. It was Padmé who spoke first. “You remembered me? After all this time?”

“Is this why you don’t keep new information?” Anakin asked. Rusty ventured a questioning beep. “Oh, don’t give me that, Rusty. Memah told me you shed information like day-old bacta patches. Has anyone even had a look at your memory chip since you were blasted off Padmé’s ship? You should let me.”

Anakin had been shot in the knees. He couldn’t move any more than Rusty could fly. Still Rusty propelled himself away as quickly as his treads would allow, putting R2-D2 between him and Anakin. 

“Why is it so important for you to keep those memories?” said Padmé. 

At that, Obi-Wan, who had been struck dumb since Rusty began playing his memory, scoffed sharply and crossed his arms. “Listen to yourself. You’re speaking about this droid as if it’s alive. You’re the mechanic here, Anakin. I don’t need to remind you it’s all lines of code.”

Padmé turned to him, all sweetness, and said, “Just because you don’t form emotional attachments, you begrudge it in all other beings?” Her tone was not soft enough to cushion the sharpness of her remark and Rusty suspected it wasn’t meant to. 

Anakin stepped in to defend his old master but he stopped as Obi-Wan sneered, “Of course, I’m no better than a droid with a good memory. We are the same,” he said to Rusty. “What do we have but bitter memories of our failures?” He stormed off, leaving Anakin gaping after him. He could not remember the last time Obi-Wan had lost his temper. Judging by the look on Padmé’s face, neither could she. 

Instead of remarking on Obi-Wan’s outburst, however, she beckoned for a stretcher to transport Anakin to the med bay. She chose not to accompany him, citing the need to see to the civilians aboard the ship. So Anakin held out a hand to Rusty, who rolled forward until Anakin could rest his hand comfortably on his head. 

“You’ll come with me, won’t you? Bacta treatment is really boring,” said Anakin. 

Rusty chirped his acquiescence. He could catch up with R2-D2 some other day. 

Anakin smiled at the astromech. It wasn’t as if Rusty had changed within the last half an hour, save a few dings along his support beams from all the rough handling. But now Anakin couldn’t separate him from the image of a young Obi-Wan, mischievous and naive with shoulders not nearly broad enough for the weight of the world.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> je'taime Liz. hopefully one day i'll get to proudly see your works up here too. <3

“He’s wrong about you.” Anakin spoke slowly, his tongue heavy and uncooperative from the bacta.

Rusty angled his radar-eye to look at Anakin quizzically. For the first hour, Anakin had rambled incessantly. Bacta had that unfortunate effect on some people. Many a clumsy love confession had arisen from heavy bacta treatment, if those cheap novels sold at spaceports were to be believed. Fortunately, Anakin had been given a private ward in the med bay and no one but Rusty had to hear him whine.

“He hasn’t seen you talking about Sef Tran. He doesn’t really know about droids. Don’t hold that against him.”

Rusty beeped in exasperation. Of course Anakin was talking about Obi-Wan. Again. He grasped the top of Anakin’s blanket and pulled it up to his chin, hoping that it was enough to convey to Anakin that Rusty just wanted him to go to sleep already. The faster Anakin healed, the faster they could get out of here. The medical droid from before was still lurking around and Rusty didn’t like the look of it, even if the other staffers had assured him that the droid had been reprogrammed.

Anakin grasped the blanket acquiescently. “He lost his master shortly after that, you know. That older Jedi you saw was Qui-Gon. I’d forgotten Obi-Wan could look like that.” He settled into his pillow, finally giving in to the drowsiness and closing his eyes. “You should come with me when all this is over. I won’t be a Jedi anymore. You could be mine if you want.”

Rusty made a soft enquiring beep, but sleep had dragged Anakin under.

The air that filtered through the ward stank of antiseptic and the only sounds beyond Anakin’s deep breaths were the soft symphony of groans from the other beds in the bay, the nearly imperceptible pneumatic hiss of the bacta machines.

Rusty nudged Anakin’s hand on top of his head and made sure it stay there. It was difficult to believe. Almost too good to be true.

He had a new master.

x

A sharp burning sensation in his left hand shocked Anakin into wakefulness and he snatched it to his chest, wondering why he had put his good hand into a fire before going to sleep. A cursory glance confirmed there was no fire, but smoke was rising from under Rusty’s head.

His sharp cry for help brought a medical droid rushing in from behind the privacy partition with a halon extinguisher that quickly dissipated the smoke and cooled Rusty enough that he was able to come back online.

“What happened?” Anakin demanded.

Rusty responded with slow, confused beeps, turning his head this way and that until the medical droid harrumphed, “Not smart enough to keep your memory drives from overloading and you dare scold me about misconduct!” Rusty released a series of angry beeps, to which the medical droid tutted, “I don’t care if you want to remember everything about your new master. You need a new memory chip!”

“That’s right,” said Anakin, swinging his legs off the bed and resting his elbows on his knees so he could lean in towards Rusty. “I don’t have any more engineer friends on this ship but if you let me, I can clear some redundant data until we can get you drives with more memory space.”

Rusty’s high-pitched refusal was clear even without translation.

“You have to let me do it at some point.” Anakin affected a cajoling tone when he saw Rusty inching towards the door. “You can’t keep going with a full memory chip. _Rusty_!” But Rusty had already sped out, upsetting a trolley along the way.

Anakin fell back against his pillow with a groan. Was this how Obi-Wan felt whenever Anakin refused to do as he was told? It was exhausting.

He blindly grabbed for the comlink on the side table when it lit up, demanding his attention and said a weary hello to Mace Windu on the other side.

“ _Is Obi-Wan with you? I haven’t been able to reach him_.”

“I have no idea where he is.” After the words exchanged in the docking bay, Anakin had a feeling Obi-Wan didn’t want to see him.

“ _There’s a situation in the captain’s cabin. Are you recovered enough to come down?_ ”

Anakin propped his knees up, one-by-one, on the mattress. They were still a bit sore from the blaster shots. “I’ll be right with you. And give me a short brief. I got ambushed once today and I’m not looking for a repeat performance this soon.”

x

That memory of Sef Tran had gone untouched, unplayed ever since Rusty had recorded it. He could never bring himself to bring it up and yet, deleting it felt like the ultimate betrayal. He slid it out to play now, wondering if he would have changed his mind after all these years.

Then he heard it all again: the approaching laser fire, the screams in Murachaun. He saw Sef Tran running towards him, screaming _Go! Go!_ And Rusty had gone. In the wrong direction.

He’d known immediately that he’d made a mistake by the turn of Sef Tran’s face but neither of them had been given much time to reflect on it. The captain of the guard had been right behind Sef Tran, exhorting increased laser fire.

That was how Sef Tran died right before him. Because Rusty and the fighter jet he had piloted for her was just a bit too far.

Rusty chucked the memory file back into the dusty corner of his drive. He knew Memah bought him because he had that footage. He didn’t know why she wanted it but Rusty had guarded against any chance that it could be taken from him. Anakin might be the best but what if Anakin took it?

Rusty trailed along miserably, lost in thought, until he found himself in an empty corridor on one of the recreation decks. Just yesterday, he had been patrolling this deck with Anakin. It was empty now. There was no sound from the movie theatres. The pipes in the space were dry. It felt like a ghost ship.

A man rounded a corner from the library and gave a loud start upon spotting Rusty in the middle of the race. Obi-Wan recovered quickly, straightening himself and his robe with a standoffish expression. “Why am I always running into you these days?”

Rusty made a rude retort he was sure Obi-Wan would not bother translating.

“I’m looking for civilians to escort. Have you seen anyone else on this deck?”

Rusty shook his head.

“Alright then. I might as well bring you down with me. What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with Anakin and Padmé?” Or have they frustrated you as well?”

Rusty chose not to reply. He knew enough from Obi-Wan’s tone that he wasn’t expecting one.

They continued down the decks in silence, going through each room in case Obi-Wan had missed someone the first time around. This was the first time he was patrolling with Obi-Wan. So far all his adventures had been with Anakin. He’d assumed Obi-Wan disliked him too much to bring him anywhere. He had spent the better part of an hour ignoring Rusty in favour of searching the locker rooms of the swimming area.

Rusty tried to help, beeping softly to coax out anyone who might be hiding even from Obi-Wan because he looked scary with such a severe expression.

“I’ve never encountered a droid that shores up information like you. Not even Artoo and he’s been with us forever,” said Obi-Wan finally, nose wrinkling from the stench of chlorine. He put his hand in the pockets of the bathrobes strewn on the benches. Sometimes he came away with IDs which he put into his own pocket to return to their owners later. “Why keep the memories that make you sad?”

Rusty stared up at Obi-Wan. - _Why do you want to know?_ -

Obi-Wan smirked in spite of himself when he read the translation. “Insolent. No wonder you get along so well with Anakin.” Then, catching himself, he scoffed. “What am I saying? The sooner this mission is over the better.”

- _Anakin won’t be a Jedi after this mission._ \- Rusty pointed out. _-Why don’t you do something about it since you love him?_ -

“Who told you I love him?” Obi-Wan asked sharply.

- _I can tell. He also loves you._ -

Obi-Wan coloured with pleasure though his visage remained sombre. “Love isn’t always about feelings. Sometimes it’s about the choices you make.” 

Rusty made another confused beep.

“Take yourself, for example. You choose to keep information about your previous owners. Logic dictates that you should delete them since they are no longer related to your duties. You could not possibly have known that you would one day reunite with Padmé and Artoo. Or me.” Obi-Wan paused. “You’ve been through quite a bit, haven’t you?”

Perhaps, Rusty thought, this was why someone like Anakin would fall in love with someone as staid and boring as Obi-Wan; he was kind.

A thought struck Rusty and he asked Obi-Wan if he would like to see his other memories of Anakin. Obi-Wan bent down until that he was eye-to-radar-eye with him, nodding hesitantly.

Rusty only had a bit of Anakin. Most were from when Anakin dropped by the diner. Now that Anakin intended to keep him, Rusty was going to collect more.

Obi-Wan reached out, stroking the holographic projection of Anakin laughing at Rusty’s antics.

“Silly boy,” he whispered. Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened and through the light dusting of facial hair, Rusty saw that his lips were pressed white. At last, he parted them and with great reluctance said, “Could you show me that other memory again? The one with Qui-Gon. 

Rusty backed away from Obi-Wan with an apologetic whirr. According to what Anakin had told him, it was a memory that would only bring Obi-Wan pain.

“Are you protecting me?” Obi-Wan asked, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous, you know. I-”

They were interrupted then by heavy footfalls and then, Captain Faravi was at the door. She looked wan but her posture was even more ramrod straight than usual. There was quiet look of manic triumph in her face. Rusty rolled quietly ahead so that he stood between her and Obi-Wan. To his surprise, Faravi smiled at him. She had not showed any treatment even remotely friendly to him before that her smile unsettled him more than a snarl would have.

“Master Jedi,” she said, “I’m here to escort you to my cabin. The other Jedi are asking for you.”

Obi-Wan straightened and palmed his pockets. “Why didn’t they - ah. I seem to have misplaced my comlink. Thank you for coming all this way.”

“Not at all. I’d been assisting Senator Amidala with distributing food and blankets. We were quite done when I was asked to find you. Quite the impressive woman, that senator.”

“Yes, I like her too. Did the Jedi Masters tell you why they needed me in your cabin?” asked Obi-Wan.

“According to gossip, the pirate trapped there has agreed to give up his conspirator.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “This mission never ceases to surprise.”

Faravi threw back her head and laughed. “My sentiments exactly. Never in a thousand years had I thought I would encounter someone from that horrible night.”

“Excuse me?”

“I had thought you looked familiar. All your kind looks the same to me, but of course you were hers.”

“Captain, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Rusty came to a stop in front of Obi-Wan. The route Faravi was taking did not lead anywhere near the cabin. Instead, in front of them was the observation deck and, tied to one of the asteroid shooters bolted to the floor, was Padmé. She was slumping forward, unconscious; an ugly bruise starting to form on her temple.

Obi-Wan gave a startled cry and ran past Faravi and got down to his knees before Padmé. He took her face in his hands and tapped her cheek. A quiet groan came from her as her eyes fluttered open.  She whispered something, probably his name, and leaned her forehead on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he reached around her to undo her ties.

“Such a disgrace that night was,” Faravi unstrapped the blaster at her side. “I’d only done what was right, followed protocol. Yet the prince banished me, like I was some kind of criminal. He should have exiled himself. He was the one guilty of sleeping with a heretic.”

Obi-Wan He growled at Faravi, “You better have a good explanation for this.”

But Faravi wasn’t looking at him. While she kept her blaster trained on him, for some time now, her narrow eyes had been fixed hungrily on Rusty.

If he shame had been something coded into him, then Rusty would express it now. He had thought Faravi looked like someone he had seen before. But it had been the same for him: all of Faravi’s kind looked the same to him. But there was no doubt now that this Murachaun before him was the one he had recorded all those years ago. The captain of the royal army of Nahsu Minor. The one who had ordered his beloved Sef Tran gunned down before him.

Rusty let out a loud high-pitched whine of grief.

“It’s poetic. I would have been content to leave with just Kenobi but then I bumped into that Twi’lek. Told me all about how she came to buy you as a souvenir. And then I realised it was a sign. It was a chance for me to erase everything from that night.” Faravi grinned. It was the first sign of pleasure anyone she has displayed since their disembarkation. “I’ll decommission you and sell you for parts. I’ll scrub that memory chip of yours so thoroughly nothing of her remains to ever taint me ever again. _Then_ I’ll return home.”

Obi-Wan’s lightsaber came down upon her with nary a warning. It spoke of Faravi’s military training that she managed to dodge it and followed it up with quickfire shots at Obi-Wan. But a blaster was no match for Obi-Wan, who could deflect shots in his sleep. So Faravi took aim at Padmé.

“Enough!” Obi-Wan snatched the blaster out of Faravi’s hand with the Force, caught it in his open hand with a satisfying thwack. He froze when saw that Faravi had pressed her spare firearm against Rusty’s side. He paused.

Laughter burst from Faravi. “Does this filthy droid actually mean something to you?”

“Let him go,” said Obi-Wan.

“Come quietly with me and I will.”

“You’ll leave him and Senator Amidala.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question. I did not incapacitate her only to leave her here,” said Faravi.

“You will leave her.”

“ _You’re_ not in a position to negotiate, Master Kenobi.”

“You never learn, do you?” From behind them, Anakin approached, lightsaber held upright in deadly readiness. Accompanying him in a crescent formation was a small battalion of clone troopers with blaster rifles aimed at Faravi. “How long did you think you had before the pirates gave you up?”

To her credit, Faravi only appeared mildly surprised by the ambush. Her gun arm hardly faltered. Rusty would’ve knocked her over but the muzzle of the blaster was too close to his memory drives for comfort. Faravi knew exactly what she was aiming for.

“Those pirates are useless. They have failed at everything they have set out to do,” said Faravi.

“So have you,” Anakin pointed out. “Tass told me Count Dooku commissioned you especially to assassinate Obi-Wan. Tell me why.”

“Because the Count has the power to revoke my exile,” said Faravi with galling nonchalance.

“Tell me why he wants Obi-Wan!” Anakin demanded.

“I think you don’t understand the position you are currently in, captain.” Obi-Wan slid into a stance that paralleled Anakin’s on the other side of Faravi, both hands tight around his humming lightsaber. “You should come quietly with us.”

“No, that is what you should do. If Skywalker or his troops take another step towards me, I will detonate this.” Faravi unbuckled her coat, dropped it to the floor, epaulets and all, to bring attention to the belt of black orbs strapped around her waist. In the middle of in orb was a glowing red light. In her free hand, Faravi held up the remote.

Rusty had seen them before. They were the same explosives he had found strapped to the holo-transmitter in the captain’s cabin this morning. He stared up at Faravi in disbelief. It had been her all along!

Behind him, Rusty heard Anakin hiss to the clone troopers, “Hold your position. A single one of those is enough to tear this deck apart.”

“You’re too easy, Skywalker. You don’t care about the ship. You only care about her.” Faravi pointed at Padmé. “And that makes Kenobi easy too. Because all he cares about is you. Isn’t that right, Kenobi?”

“You’re bluffing,” said Obi-Wan. “You know you’ve failed and this is the only way we’ll put you in maximum security where the Count cannot reach you to punish you for your failure.”

“I haven’t failed. All I need to do is kill you and get off this ship. So, if you would be so kind,” Faravi turned towards Rusty, eyes slitting with glee, “bring me a ship.”

Rusty backed away, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to help the one who murdered Sef Tran. He _wasn’t_.

“I know you pilot jets. Go to the docking bay and bring me a ship or I will kill Skywalker and everyone here with one click.”  

A soft voice cut through the tension, so soft at first no one realised its source. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Jezi? After all that talk about honour, you would betray us to Count Dooku? To the Separatists?” said Padmé, struggling onto her elbows next to the asteroid shooter. She had tried her level best to stand but her face was pale and sweaty and it looked like she had thought better of it.

“You have been betrayed long ago. Your Republic already belongs to the Separatists. I’m just making sure I can go home.”

“By killing me?” said Obi-Wan.

“I don’t know what you have done to offend the Count, but yes. There are many casualties in war.”

“Yes, there are.” With a pulse of the Force, Anakin pushed Faravi off-balance and off her feet and shouted, “Now!”, upon which his clone troopers rushed forward and held down her arms.

Faravi went down with a harsh cry. “You should have just brought me the ship! I would have spared everyone else!”

“Where’s the detonator?” cried Obi-Wan. “Get it away from her.”

Anakin kicked the remote from Faravi’s clawed fingers.

It skidded across the floor, coming to a stop in front of Rusty, which was why he was the only one who realised: the remote had been activated.

Anakin was too far away. He had hurried over to Padmé, who had collapsed back onto the floor, groaning with one hand to her temple.

Obi-Wan backed away to give them some privacy. He raised his head, ostensibly to flag down someone to fetch medical attention for Padmé, and accidentally locked eyes with Rusty. In that instant, he knew.

“ _Wait_!”

Rusty charged forward as fast as he could. Smoke rose from his new treads as he abused them horribly, the rubber screeching, stretching under him. _It’s the same_ , he told himself. It was like flushing it down the toilet again. He barreled down towards the clone troopers holding Faravi down and shoved them all away. Those who tried to defend themselves, he knocked them off-balance with a sharp hiss of halon. Rusty clamped down on Faravi’s forearm with his grasper and without stopping, tore a streak down the observation deck.

“You again!” Faravi screamed, rage transforming her voice into a shrill thing, but she could do nothing but be dragged behind him.

Her screams shook everyone, so loud and paid-edged they were, and Rusty thought they would shake his bolts loose. But he had a mission. And she would not stop him this time.

Without his propulsion boosters, speed was all he had. And so, he put every bit of energy from his power cells into his treads and launched himself off the deck towards the stars. He had not given himself time to consider other options. Judging by how quickly the previous explosive had gone off, he would not have had the time.

Behind him, he heard Anakin. “Rusty, _NO_!”

As the deck grew further, the hull of the ship came into view. And Rusty thought, _I made it. I was in time._

- _Bye, Anakin,_ \- he beeped.

The explosion bloomed like a flower opening all at once, unleashing a giant burst of heat and fire and then - a blinding white light.

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Finally! My thanks to all the readers who made it this far.

The sun was hanging low in the sky when the Jedi transport ships finally arrived at Coruscant. Passengers exiting the onto the spaceport were mobbed by reporters, clamouring to get a good photo of a pale-faced senator or an indignant socialite; their muted shock complimented by the stern silence of the Jedi and the clone troopers, standing by to ensure safe passage.

Anakin, a favourite of the tabloids, put his hood up and deftly sidestepped all attempts to extract a soundbite. He delivered Padme into the capable hands of her handmaidens. He debriefed the police captain; thanked her for the hours of work to come in taking testimony from the Queen Loma’s crew and passengers. And then with nothing else to do, he disappeared. He did not resurface even when the Jedi Council summoned him a week later.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” Obi-Wan said to the council when they requested his presence instead.

“Were you aware of Knight Skywalker’s plans?” Mace Windu asked, elbows on his knees, leaning forward in his deep-cushioned seat in the council chamber. “You know we cannot take this lightly.”

“Anakin has married Senator Amidala. She is carrying his child,” added Obi-Wan. He felt a frisson of comic delight at the way the council members exchanged looks of silent disbelief. “If Anakin wants to leave the Jedi Order, there’s not much we can do to stop him. And I hope you are not thinking of asking me to persuade him otherwise.”

“No,” said Depa Billaba, folding her hands in her robes. “But Knight Skywalker’s journey is not yet complete. His strength in the Force is not something we can ignore. Now that he has chosen to step outside the protection of the Order, he might - I’m sorry to suspect this of your former padawan, Obi-Wan, but Skywalker might Fall.”

“He’s not a youngling anymore,” Obi-Wan protested. “He has been trained as much as any other Jedi before him and he has proved himself time and again.”

“Be calm, Obi-Wan. Doubt young Skywalker we do not,” said Yoda. Obi-Wan raised a sardonic brow. “But your guiding hand he still needs. Attached to you greatly he is.”   _And you to him_.

Obi-Wan kept staring at Yoda, unsure he was meant to feel chastised or not. “Considering my new assignment in the Outer Rim, I’m not sure what you’re asking of me.” He straightened when he felt a weight of expectation levelled upon him by every pair of eyes in the room. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and winced, his new armour digging into his skin. “What?”

x

After several days of keeping to himself, Anakin returned to the Jedi Temple. His hair was matted, his robes bearing sign of yesterday’s reign. Thankfully no one stopped him to ask where he had been.

Stares and whispers followed him to the Knights’ Billet. No doubt news of his decision to leave the Order had made it round the Temple.

Anakin supposed that this was something that would never change. People would always be talking about him for one reason or another.

He pressed the access code to his room and jumped in surprise upon realising it wasn’t empty.

Obi-Wan sat on his bed, right ankle balanced leisurely on his left knee, wearing a new suit of armour. Anakin had heard the news even all the way down in the lower sectors: Mace Windu had followed through on his threat and had given Obi-Wan command over a battalion of clone troopers. Judging by the holo-interviews, Obi-Wan was no more comfortable with the title of ‘general’ than he was with his new laser-proof armour. Anakin guessed (correctly) that it would not be two weeks before Obi-Wan chucked it in exchange for his linen robes.

“Aren’t they shipping you out to the Outer Rim tonight?” Anakin asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Yes. To a nowhere planet called Jakku. I can’t imagine what sort of fight has erupted there that would need my interference,” said Obi-Wan and though Anakin was the one who had opened the conversation with false coolness, Obi-Wan’s nonchalance vexed him. Obi-Wan stood up from the bed, leaned over to the opposite wall and opened the section where Anakin had kept his stash of mechanical trinkets. “How many more secrets have you been hiding from me, I wonder?”

Anger rose, viscous and black in the back of Anakin’s throat. “Get out.” He did not care for Obi-Wan’s moralising or condescension at the moment.

Obi-Wan, who always acted as if he knew better than Anakin, who still kept that self-satisfied tone even though what happened on the Queen Loma had so clearly proved him wrong, who did not even have the decency to appeared chastened by his mistakes. But then, why should he? To him, Rusty had just been a stupid droid.

Anakin put his shoulder between Obi-Wan and the wall and scooped his things into a bag. This was all he came for anyway. Padmé’s ship was waiting for him. She would be upset - not angry, but still, upset - to know that he had parted badly with Obi-Wan.

A short step away from the door, Obi-Wan reached out, fingers grazing the back of Anakin’s hand. An innocent enough touch but physical touches with Obi-Wan were so rare that the pleasure of it ran up Anakin’s arm and down his back like a spark of electricity.

“What do you want?” Anakin hissed, meaning to sound angrier than he did. “Are you here to gloat? That you were right and I should never have brought him along? If I hadn’t, he’d still be here.”

“But we would not be,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“We would have found a way. We always do.”

“Regretting the past is not-”

If Obi-Wan finished that with ‘the Jedi way’, Anakin would punch him. 

“- how best to honour him. I had grown fond of him towards the end. Your Rusty.” Anakin could not help his sharp intake of breath. The past week had been full of careful pronouns, dancing around the name. “He was more insightful than I gave him credit for. He reminded me of you.”

“Wasn’t he just a package of code and protocols?” said Anakin.

Obi-Wan did not reply immediately, recognising the bait, and Anakin did not move, wanting to hear how Obi-Wan would defend himself this time. The words came slowly, each one carefully weighed.

“He looked right at you before he did it. He saved everyone on that ship but when it came down to it, I think he wanted to save you. I do not know how codes are written or how protocols are formed. But as those are the protocols Rusty had followed, and the resulting action of those protocols is an act of love, does it not follow that he had acted out of love?”

Anakin stared hard at the back of his door, willing the burning sensation behind his eyes away. “Don’t patronise me.”

“Foolish as it is, I admire him. He decided so quickly that he wanted to be with you and was so unabashed about showing it. To match him, I would have to go to Padmé and beg her to share you with me, child or no.”

Anakin clenched his hands, held his breath, waiting for more.

“Well, I have to go,” said Obi-Wan. “Chancellor Palpatine requested a meeting with me and I only have so much time before I leave for Jakku.”

Anakin spluttered. “You -“

“Yes?”

Anakin didn’t know whether to be angry or indignant and in the end, settled for tired. He slumped back, catching the edge of the table with his hand and said miserably, “I’m in love with you, you know,” because this might be his last chance to say it and what could he lose at this point? Obi-Wan was no longer his master and he was no longer a Jedi. If he had left without saying anything and parted with Obi-Wan on unfriendly terms, they might as well be strangers after this.

He startled when Obi-Wan touched his elbow, drawing him in, and Anakin went willingly, confused by the heady look in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I know,” Obi-Wan said and kissed him. 

Anakin didn’t know if he was actually shaking or if it was his mind playing tricks on him as Obi-Wan continued to extract more soft kisses from his lips. Sparks danced from the top of his head down the back of his neck; the pleasure of Obi-Wan’s touch from before magnified twofold. Distantly, he noted the low roar of the exhaust fan in the ‘fresher, the smell of polish from Obi-Wan’s armour, the tickle of moustache against this nose as Obi-Wan pressed deeper, taking his time to explore how much he enjoyed touching Anakin.

Anakin flushed red and warm. He had never seen this side of Obi-Wan. He opened his mouth to him, desirous, and the warmth in their bond that he had previously identified as Obi-Wan’s affections - a warmth he had previously withheld from Anakin - now crested and spilled over into Anakin like sunbeams through parted clouds. Anakin pulled away, jaw stiff, caution warring with hope.

“Is it me?” he asked haltingly. “Could I make you happy?” The words sounded absurd the moment they left his lips. Anakin felt at once like the Padawan he was once not too long ago, waiting for Obi-Wan to return after having been summoned by the Council again to account for Anakin’s missions on their off-world missions. Whenever he tried to impress Obi-Wan, he always felt the child. Awkward. Wrong-footed.

Obi-Wan smirked, an irresistible upward curl that made his eyes half-lidded with mirth. “If you like.”

“Of course I do!”

Obi-Wan curled their fingers together, the electricity of his touch still creating wonderful sensations up Anakin’s arm. His smile was so delightfully languid that Anakin’s throat went tight. “Alright then,” said Obi-Wan.

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek to temper his bubbling elation. “But you’re being sent out to the Outer Rim!”

“And you had intended to settle peacefully in Theed as the war rages?”

Anakin swallowed. He had not even told Padmé of his plans to join the Security Forces. The Jedi were not the only ones fighting to defend the Republic and Anakin did not plan to leave the outcome of the fight to them.

“And I have official orders to check in on you from time to time. The Order fears you will become unstable without their protection. Don’t look at me like that. I have more faith in you than you think.” Obi-Wan palmed Anakin’s cheek, smile widening against his will when Anakin grew warm under his hand.

“I wish I could go with you to the Outer Rim. I wish you could come with me to Naboo.” Reluctantly, Anakin added, “I wish Rusty was here so he could laugh at us. He’d thought you far too boring as a companion for me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Obi-Wan nodded. Then in a softer voice that went ahead of all things difficult, he said, “I’m sorry about your friend, Anakin.”

“Yeah.” Where Obi-Wan stood now, Rusty had stood about two weeks ago, wet from the rain, beeping with gratitude.

Sadness undulated inside him like an old tune under his ribs but there was nothing to be done about that. It was not a bad melody. At least, sometimes, it was sweet.

x

“You had assured me that the reptile would do her job, my apprentice.” The voice of an upset master chilled the bones, no matter how old the apprentice, Count Dooku realised. And he could feel Darth Sidious’s disdain pouring off the hologram in waves. “You hunted her down for this specific purpose, so sure she would not fail. Shall I remind you of the results?”

Count Dooku could not move without belying his uneasiness and so kept his wringing hands behind his straight back and held tight onto the ice in his mind. “Jezi Faravi was near succeeding, my lord. By all accounts, Obi-Wan Kenobi survived not by his efforts but because Anakin Skywalker’s pet got in the way.” He felt victory within his grasp when Sidious paused.

“A pet?”

“A droid he’d adopted. From the junkyard by the looks of it. It malfunctioned and drove the captain off the ship. Even I cannot account for a stroke of luck.”

Darth Sidious hummed, conceding the point.

Count Dooku unwrapped his arms, brought it forward in an appeasing gesture. “Perhaps if you told me why Kenobi is so important.”

“He isn’t any longer,” Sidious snapped, surprising Count Dooku’s bushy brows towards his receding hairline. “I had thought him the key to Skywalker’s downfall, the owner of the leash the Jedi had placed on him. But he had not even objected Skywalker’s removal from the Jedi Order.”

So this was all about Skywalker. Count Dooku narrowed his eyes. “What next, my lord? It would be no trouble at all to remove him now that he is stationed in the Outer Rim.”

Sidious scoffed. “As Kenobi will not do, we must concentrate our efforts on the good Senator Amidala then. A pity.”

Count Dooku frowned. “Why?”

“That is not important for you to know, Darth Tyrannus,” said Sidious and cut off the transmission. That had been the same thing Sidious had said to Dooku about Anakin Skywalker. But clearly, Skywalker merited greater scrutiny than previously warranted if Sidious was going to all this trouble to make him fall. 

Naboo was a neutral planet in the war. Dooku could meet with Senator Amidala on the pretense of discussing Naboo’s possible entry into the Federation of Independent Planets. If she had as many weak points as Kenobi, her assassination would not be too difficult. He ordered the protocol droid to set up the meeting immediately.

Dooku sat back down at his desk, peering at the holo-news declaring Padmé Amidala was carrying twins and that there would be a public celebration in Theed the following week. She was a picture of radiant happiness.

“A pity,” Dooku said to himself.

x

There were plenty of reasons people went to the Soft Heart Cantina but on days like these, it was often to escape the weather. The sun shone hot and merciless in the sky and the heat accumulated until it drove the air out of one’s lungs in the lower sector. Anakin stumbled into the cantina, gulping in the air from the cooling unit gratefully, and climbed into the closest available booth quickly before he caught the calculating eye of Memah Roothes. He had no credits on him and Memah would have no compunctions throwing him out if she knew he wasn’t a paying customer.

Anakin leaned back into the booth in surprise when a glass of blue milk was dropped unceremoniously in front of him and a beat-up-looking droid appeared at his table, grumpily asking what he wanted.

“Um,” said Anakin, “I don’t have any credits. It’s just baking outside.” He held out his hands when the droid extended and electric prod and lit it threateningly. “Wait, wait, I can open a tab here. I’m good for it. I’m a Jedi.”

The droid de-powered the prod and lowered it.

“Yep, I’m a Jedi. Look: I dress like one. I have this.” Anakin patted at the lightsaber clipped to his belt. “And this.” He held up his rattail.

The droid let out a series of amused chirps, telling Anakin that he believed him. The last Jedi he’d met had that awful rattail as well.

“Thanks. I think,” said Anakin.

- _So what would you like to order?_ \- asked the droid.

“Whatever you recommend.”

After a brief pause, the droid dragged the glass of blue milk away from Anakin.

Anakin snorted in laughter. “Thanks for the warning. What’s your name?”

“We call that one Rusty,” said Memah over the din of the cantina without looking in their direction.

Anakin winced. He wondered if anything in this cantina escaped Memah’s notice. She’s probably the one who sent the droid, knowing he would electrocute Anakin for not ordering. Anakin turned to the droid and held out a hand. “Rusty, huh? Hi, I’m Anakin.”

The droid stared at Anakin’s hand with his radar-eye, confused by the gesture. He gave Anakin his grasper arm to hold and let out a short, high-pitched beep.

- _Hi, Anakin_. -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you enjoyed this story. I had set out to write something that could conceivably happen in the Clone Wars series and hoped to stay true to the characters of Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padmé. I'm glad everyone took to Rusty so well. I'm sad to leave him, but this means I can focus on Shaak Herding, where I get to write about Ahsoka. 
> 
> My love, always, for Liz, who is writing her own excellent fic. I wouldn't have finished this if not for you.


End file.
